


Threaten And Adore

by Aki_Sei, Oberyn2206



Category: Tanz der Vampire - Steinman/Kunze
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Dark Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Graf von Krolock needs more love, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Praise, Thriller, Thrilling, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 12:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 47,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_Sei/pseuds/Aki_Sei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oberyn2206/pseuds/Oberyn2206
Summary: Count von Krolock, still young and gentle, after an unexpected visit had decided to leave his old home for good. He and his son soon settled in Transylvania where they led a new life, leaving the past behind their backs. Until one night many centuries later, when the count came across someone who not only gave him dejà vu, but also a feeling he could not explain.A story about family love, thrilling adventure involving magic with slashes of fluff and romance.





	1. The Promise

_German, 1621._

 

“Papa… Papa?”

 

A young, sweet voice rang through the dark hallway. It kept the count’s eyes off his book, distracted him from what he was doing. So rarely like once in a blue moon did his son stay up this late. At times like that, either the boy was sniveling for more bedtime stories, or he was deeply in need of sharing something that bothered him so much.  

“Papa, I can’t sleep.” The voice was soft and pure, as if it belonged to an angel.

Putting down his book, the count turned to his son and spread his arms wide. Herbert, with no hesitation, rushed to the armchair and hugged his father in a tight embrace, then snuggled close in his lap. It made the count can not help but let out a small chuckle.

“What is it that keeps you awake?” The count asked, slipping his hand to brush Herbert’s hair. “Did you have nightmares?”

Little Herbert didn’t reply. The boy usually had unpleasant dreams and would stormed into his father’s library – where the count often been found – yelling about monsters ripping off his stuffed toys and clothes in the wardrobe. But strangely this time, he was in no fuss, which partly confused the count. The boy only shook his head and pressed his face upon his father’s chest, mumbled something only himself could hear.

“Herbert, mein Liebling.” The count whispered softly, “It’s alright. No need to be scared, I am here. Let me know if there’s anything troubles you, won’t you?”

Still holding tight his father, Herbert didn’t bother to look up:

“I’m sad, papa, really sad. I don’t think I should…” The boy cut off his own sentence and chewed on his lips.

“What do you think you should not do?”

“This Saturday there’ll be a winter fair at my school.”

“Then it’s tomorrow!” The count commented, but Herbert didn’t show any sign to be interested at all.

“Uh-huh…”

“You love it, don’t you? I can see that you’ve been excited these days.”

“Yes, but… Papa, I don’t think I should go.”

The count was taken aback at his son’s statement, for Herbert never wanted to miss any chance of fun. It was not normal to see Herbert gloomy like this, not normal at all. “Why?” was an evident question.

“There’re some boys…” Herbert confessed, “I don’t want to meet them. They like to make fun of me.”

“Are they those children who quarreled with you for no reason at all last year?”

The count waited for an answer with patience, just to receive a slight nod from his son. He sighed. He had no clue why, how some noble family could spoil their children to the point of letting them behave in such ill-manners. The count was, actually, had the ability to set things done financially, but then, he was not the only one who had power in the city, and bad rumors about him was the least thing he wished Herbert to know. So for now, the young boy had to learn to mature himself whenever his father wasn’t there, and obviously it didn’t go as smoothly as expected. Herbert was a cheerful and open-hearted child, though there were times he could be cheeky and cunning to ask for what he wanted, the boy still knew how to behave. Herbert deserved to be treated better.

“I ignored them at first, but they kept following me and then they said ugly words. So I said I wouldn’t stand it anymore. I did speak for myself!” Herbert squeaked, “But father, they are just loud-mouths. They think they are older than me, so they never listen.”

The count felt his heart twist upon Herbert’s words, and he cursed himself for not being determined enough that day when he insisted on giving Herbert tuition at home. But what could he do more? His Herbert was only a small child, the boy needed to meet the world more than ever. He loved the school, even showed his fondness for poetry at such young age. Though Herbert didn’t have any specific close friends, the boy was friendly, always chirping like a little happy grackle. How could he just lock his precious son inside the house like the way people kept their birds, while the boy could explore and enjoy his life?

Managed to set his thoughts aside, the count asked:

“Sweetheart, the bullies only want to rile you up. I believe that you never do anything wrong.”

“No! They hate me because I’m different!” Herbert sniffed, and the count could feel his son was choking back tears. “Because I… I don’t have a mother.”

This came as thunders drumming through the ears, and the count remained silent. He tightened his embrace around his little child. Like a powerful wave, memories of a dark miserable past flooded the count’s mind. His son did not have a mother, and it was no one’s false but his. He blamed himself. She was still so young when she fell ill, so ill that she clung onto life in desperation. Herbert barely knew how to speak at that time, the boy was even too weak to stand on his own feet. And the count… He was also buried in deep hopelessness for not being able to stay by their sides. And he was too late to save her, to save the mother of his very child.

It had been three years, three years long he mourned her death. His wife had found her eternal heaven, while he himself, cursed, was turned into a creature of darkness, till forever. He’d thought life had become meaningless, but his sweet little son, the only gift was left for him, had saved him. The count had sworn to love Herbert more than anything in this world, and he would protect him, whatever costs it would take.

“Papa?”

Herbert’s voice led the count out of his recalling. “Yes?”

“Where’s mama?” Herbert finally looked up at his father with tears in his eyes, made the count feel as if there was a silver blade slashing through his heart. Same old question, though he had always tried to keep Herbert not bother about it.

“Mama is not here anymore.” The count shook his head, avoiding the true answer as always.

“You always say mama has gone to a better place, but I don’t want her to leave us.” Herbert began to melt. The count could feel his eyes hurt as well, but he could not come to cry. Three years had passed and mourning for the lost of his wife had drained him to his last tear.

“You still have me here.” The count soothed.

“But you never go with me to anywhere. There are so few times we spend together.” Herbert whined, but then immediately mumbled, “At the fair this year I will be alone **again** , and they will laugh at me **again** …”

“I am sorry, Herbert…”

“They said mama left because of me, because she couldn’t stand a freak like me.” Herbert wailed, “Is that so?”

“No, no, no… No, Herbert.” The count cupped his son’s face, his thumbs gently wiped the wetting tears about to run down the plump cheeks, and he whispered, as he kissed his son’s cheeks and forehead. “Mein Liebling, you are not a freak. You are beautiful and wonderful just like your mother. Listen to me: don’t you believe them.”

“But… Mama will never come home?”

“No, I am so sorry. Mama has gone to a much better place for good. But it was not your fault, never is your fault.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Mama loves you as much as I love you.”

This time, the boy was crying no more. He curled into a ball like a kitten, snuggling closer to his father. His voice broke:

“I still think it’ll be the best idea if I stay home with you.”

“But then you’ll miss all the fun!”

“There’s no fun being alone, papa. I know it, I was alone at the fair last year. I don’t like being lonely, it’s awful.” Herbert nibbled on his thumb. “They never have to be lonely.”

“Just enjoy your day at the fair tomorrow.” The count rubbed his son’s back. After a while thinking and considering, the count decided to take a risk, and he suggested, “How about I join you there? As all my assignments are set and done, I’ll be there.”

“Really?” Herbert was blissfully stunned. “You promise?”

“Hush now.” The count cooed, “I promise. Tomorrow, I will be there for you.”

Then the count started to hum a familiar melody. When his voice grew softer and softer, Herbert’s hold on him grew less and less tight. The boy had drifted into sleep in his father’s lap.

 


	2. The Fair

The next morning greeted Herbert with snow flakes dancing from the bright blue sky and excitement running through every vein. Only the Krolock manor was the same, quiet like an abandoned building every time Herbert woke up. Like usual, his father was nowhere in sight, his room had been locked, while breakfast had been ready for Herbert right on the table. Father always prepared breakfast for Herbert, but never joined him for one and even lunch. But Herbert had grown quite used to it, so he just shrugged it off.

Still, Herbert sometimes missed the boisterous atmosphere of the manor at days when it had many people and servants come and go. He vaguely remembered an old pleasant nanny who used to take care of his meals and clothes, but then one day she vanished into thin air just like the rest, so from then most of the work in the house had been father’s concern. Herbert himself also had learnt how to do simple errands, so he knew what to do at home whenever father was absent. But hey, this was not a time to recall flashback, today was a great day to him, he should think more of it, shouldn’t he? 

Thinking so, Herbert hurried to finish his last piece of cheese and ham sandwich and dashed out to school.

Herbert skipped down the snowy streets in his finest clothes, every now and then stopped by to pet a fat stray cat rolling on the ground, giggled as the animal purred under his hand. He was happier than ever, for he knew today father would attend the fair with him. Herbert would not be lonely anymore, and more wonderful, he would not be bullied anymore.

.

.

The sun soon left his place from top of the sky, and the light of day was fading. But the fair would still be going on with its activities, games and stalls and many splendid decorations, and would not end till late evening. But Herbert’s father remained out of sight. Waiting on the long rocky bench, the boy grew more and more restless. Also a bit disappointed. What if father could not make it in time? What if father had forgot the promise and abandoned him? Then this year he had to be alone once more? Oh Herbert did not like that idea one bit. Worse, if the bullies saw him on his own one more time…

 

“Well well well, is that Herbert von Krolock?”

 

A boy with a smirk on his face was approaching Herbert. Before little Herbert could stand up to move elsewhere, that boy had come close, and together with him were two other ones. All of them were dressed up to the nine just like Herbert, with expensive fur coats and silver buttons on their shirts. One of the other boys quickly dropped himself down on the bench right beside Herbert. The trinity was much bigger and more built than Herbert, there was no escape now.

“What do you want?” Herbert collected all his courage and asked.

“Hey!” The boys drawled out their voice, making faces of pouting. “We just met you! You should have greeted us more politely! You wounded us!”

“I have nothing to talk with you guys.” Herbert felt his face hot already, for he knew so well that this conversation would not lead to anything nice. “I don’t want to play with you.”

“But it’ll be so much fun!”

“No, it’s not. I’d rather be alone.” Herbert huffed.

“Alone? Did he just say ‘alone’?” The leader cut off and shouted out to his friends, “Declan! Dashiell! Did you hear that? Little Herbert is alone and lonely again, oh poor little lad!”

Just like that, all of them burst out laughing, which made Herbert’s blood boil. Why making fun of him in such an ungraceful way, Herbert had no idea, and he clenched his fists. He had to stand it. The last time he fought back, he broke Dashiell’s nose, and the atmosphere in the principle’s office was so tense that Herbert – standing outside with Dashiell – felt as if the bastard’s mother had scratched the count to death. It was not even Herbert’s fault, after all! It was Dash who started the fight, but he was such a treasure to his parents, so his mother never admitted she was wrong. Meanwhile, the count… He was nowhere near amusement, either. Herbert remembered his father had made a fuss about going out at noon, then he wore a heavy hooded cloak, not caring how stuffy the office could be. But Dash’s mother’s screech had made Herbert jump out of his skin that the boy completely forgot to ask why his father had dressed so oddly. 

Herbert begged, “Please, you are not playing nice! Go away, or I’ll tell your ma and pa!”

“I’m so scared.” Dashiell faked a grimace, then grinned down at Herbert with a daring look. “After all this times you still haven’t learnt, dim-witted? Your father’s words are nothing compared to my mother’s, and even him couldn’t make me change school, either.” He laughed menacingly, “So go on. Go tell my parents that you were a good boy while their own son was not. Let’s see who they’ll believe.”

“Go play with your ma and pa and leave me alone!” Herbert knew he had been defeated again, and he was really frustrated, his face red like a tomato.

“Oh dear, poor Herbert is sad? He is going to cry! Cohen, Dashiell, you bastards made the little mouse cry!” Declan, wiggling on the long bench, whimpered and pouted. “Herbert is sad because we all have our parents while he’s left behind! Herbert is jealous because no one wants to come near a freak like Herbert!”

Then they burst out laughing again.

Herbert yelled:

“My papa will come! You’ll see! Papa loves me and papa promised to come to me!”  

It made the other boys quiet for a while and the shade on Herbert’s face less red a bit, but the silence, unfortunately, did not last long. Putting one feet on the bench, Cohen looked down at Herbert, a fleer on his face:

“Then where is your so beloved father, mousie?”

Herbert’s voice softened:

“Pa… Papa has not arrived yet, but he’ll soon be here with me.”

“So he is not here.” Cohen’s smirk grew wider into a grin which was nothing like friendly or charming at all, baring his teeth. “Listen up, you freak. Your father only promised you the moon so you would shut your mouth up, because he himself doesn’t love you one bit, either, and he won’t bother to waste his time for you. He will soon give you away and go, just like your mother.”

“How dare you?” Herbert gritted his teeth, his face twisted and grew redder in fury. “Papa doesn’t lie, papa loves me, and so does mama. And I am not a freak!”

“Ha! You know it well that it was because of a troll like you that your mother had to leave!” Declan exclaimed, pouring oil into fire. “Perhaps you are not even her real son, that’s why she disgusted you! If so, then you are so very a freak, a love-child, a bastard!”

Those cruel words were like thousands of knives and swords slashing through Herbert’s heart. It was ridiculous, it was intolerable! They were insulting not only him but also his father! Decided he was allowed not to hold his anger anymore, Herbert squeezed his eyes tight and screamed:

“Stop! I never do anything wrong to you! You are not playing nice! You are all jerks!”

Releasing his anger had calm Herbert down somehow, but as soon as the little boy gained back his cool, he felt deeply regretted.

“Ah ah ah, now the little devil dares spit back its seniors?” Cohen grumbled and cast Herbert a furious glare, which made the boy turn to his meek side and remain silent, only his whimpers in the throat could be heard. “You deserve a punishment, don’t you know that?” Cohen threat.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to yell!” Herbert stammered, got stiff in panic. Oh he shouldn’t have done that. Stupid, stupid Herbert! If only he just avoided them, then things would be easier… They never hurt him physically before, but now they looked so angry! He didn’t want to be beaten by three people!

“Too late, freak.” Cohen snarled through gritted teeth. “But… We may don’t need to beat you like beating a small puppy. Not here. Hehehe.” His eyes rolled around in a sneaky manner and he laughed softly to himself. As if the older boy had had another plan in mind. He winked, “Claim something from you would not be a bad idea.”

“Yes! We can take this!” Declan whistled agree and immediately hit Herbert’s head with his palm, snatching the woolen hat of the poor boy. Right after taking what he wanted, Declan saw something attracted his curiosity more. He took hold a handful of Herbert’s hair, so hard it made the boy cry in pain. Declan growled, “Almighty God what is this?” Despite his cheerful tone, he seemed to be sarcastically scornful. “You braid your hair? Cohen, Dash, look! He braids his hair, just like a girl! What a pathetic dandy!”

“Give me my hat back, please!” Herbert begged, struggling while his hair was still in Declan’s grip. He could feel his hair torn off from his head.

“Such a pretty hat. But let a freak with braids wear it is such a waste.” Dashiell chuckled, disdainfully.

“Give me back my hat!” Now Declan had finally let him go, Herbert in desperation tried to jump for his woolen hat. But he couldn’t do anything, the trinity kept moving and throwing the hat to each other, resulting in Herbert running around and around. Hopeless, Herbert reasoned, “It’s my present!”

“Tsk tsk, even someone like you got a gift?” The other boys pretended to be shocked.

“It’s my birthday present!”

“Oh? And from who did you receive it?”

“Papa knitted it for me!” Herbert yelled, almost cried as he believed the woolen hat could not last long. Though it was true that the count had knitted it for him, father had no skill for knitting at all, so the hat was worse from even those cheap ones sold at the night markets. But Herbert loved it no matter what, and he could not let himself see his present being destroyed by those careless hands.

“Pardon? You must be kidding!” Cohen wrinkled his nose in disgust. He turned to his pals, free to jeer, “His father does the woman’s job!”

“It’s just knitting!” Herbert fought back. He never understood why people would ever discriminate such small tasks like that between men and women. “Please give it back to me!”

Cohen was a stubborn lad. He turned deaf ears to Herbert and tip-toed, which made he – who was already taller than Herbert – now much taller than the little boy. Holding the hat up to the sky, he dared:

“Accept my challenge, and I will consider giving it back to you.”

“What… What challenge?”

“Catch me if you can!”

So saying, Cohen pushed Herbert fall down hard on the ground and fled. Herbert, with little bruises on his knees, attempted to rush behind desperately. He was not sure if he could even happen to get near Cohen, let alone catch him.

When the two had been both out of sight, Dashiell allowed himself to rest beside Declan on the bench.

“Did you see how mousie ran, Declan?” Dashiell shook his head, “He won’t be able to catch Cohen. Our leader is an athlete.”

“Yes, yes, poor dim-witted mousie.” Declan nodded in agreement, “He’s so naive...”

Suddenly, Declan trailed his last words and never finished his sentence. His eyes opened wide in horror as he looked past the boy next to him. Confused, Dashiell cocked his head:

“What’s wrong, Declan? Why stop talking? What are you looking...”

Dashiell shifted to to see what had locked Declan’s attention. Dashiell’s face soon went white, like there was no more blood running up there, and though he didn’t notice, he was trembling like suffering from palsy. Right behind him was a man with an unhuman height looking down at them. He was like an evil giant, making the boys cringe. Though he was wearing a cloak with hood covered most of his face, the sunlight was still bright enough for him to show his pale skin like the death. His knife-sharp gaze soon met Dashiell’s eyes, and he asked, voice echoeing in his own chest like thunders rumbling furiously in the clouds before a storm:

“Where is Herbert?”

“Sir, you must be mistaking me with someone else... I don’t know anyone named...” Dashiell babbled, but immediately cut off by the man:

“Lies.” The man grumbled, almost roared that made the boys squeak and want to jump out of their skins. “I know you, Dashiell Hoch. Don’t you ever think of lying to me.”

“Sir, I’m.. s-sorry.” Dashiell shook more violently at the trenchant words, his teeth clashing in his mouth. The man looked like nothing but a phantom, made he fear he could faint at any moment. “He... followed Cohen...”

“To where?”

“I saw them... head to the forest...”

Before Dashiell and Declan could come back to their senses, the man had disappeared after a blink of an eye.

 


	3. I Will Be There For You

The last light of day was fading, but the sun had not come to rest behind the mountain range. Quickened his long paces across the streets, the count had to cover his hood more cautiously, protecting himself from the weak yet still deadly light. It was hard to see clearly under the shawl, so no sooner, he had bumped into someone at a deserted corner. In a blink, both had collapsed on the snowy ground.

“My apology. I am in such a hurry.”

The count sternly stated, then took no hesitation collecting the pell-mell of papers on the ground for the other man. When he handed the man his bags with the files, a strong wind blew by, out of a sudden that the count did not see his hood blown backward before it was too late, and he hissed in pain when his skin was exposed to the sun. The other man, startled by the hiss, jolted his head up to face the count, just to get stunned at the beauty in front of him. But he did not have the chance to admire that beauty long. Not letting the deadly light do any more harm to himself, the count was quick to cover the hood over his head again.

“Sir, are you alright?” The man asked, his bushy brows frowned in genuine concern.

“Yes, thank you! But I apologize, I must go, it’s urgent.” The count firmly nodded as a farewell gesture, but then he got seized by the arm.

“Wait! What’s your name? I want to know...”

“I am a von Krolock!” The count replied without considering.

“What happened to your face? Why must you hide it?”

“I believe we’ll have the chance to talk in the future, but I can’t stay by now. Sir, I really am sorry!” The count raised his voice, yanking his arm off the firm grip – he didn’t notice how the man could have such powerful strength to keep him in place – then ran at great speed straight to the forest, leaving the man with both astonishment and curiosity.

The man, he had to see that hooded stranger again. Perhaps, perhaps because in his life he had never met any man that good-looking, and though it was maybe a little rude, he had to admit, that stranger was too beautiful to be a man. But moreover, he was so intriguing. Why did he had to hide his face? It was winter, it was freezing, but it had not yet been that cold for anyone to wrap himself up like that. And why did he hiss so painfully when his shawl fell? Because his pale skin had any problems with frosty air and snow, or… 

_Or…?_

An interesting idea flicked out in the man’s mind, made his silver-coloured eyes light up with amusement, and he smirked.

.

.

“Cohen, stop!”

Herbert’s panic grew larger as they'd left the crowded city far behind and he spotted the other boy head to the forest. “You can’t go there!”

“As I said, catch me if you can, coward!” Cohen waved off Herbert’s warning, never looked back at his friend.

“It’s dangerous there! Please, come back!”

“You are such a loser!”

“I am not a loser, or a coward! But the forest is dangerous, and we could die! Stop, Cohen! Just keep the hat if you want but please stop!”

But Cohen turned deaf ears to all the hopeless begging of Herbert. He kept running and running, getting nearer and nearer to the heart of the forest. Lines of trees and owl hoots welcomed them, at one point both the boys could see that they had been far away from city light and the tall buildings down there were only but tiny dots.

“Cohen, you’ve gone too far. We could get lost!” Herbert gasped for air when the other boy had finally decided to pause for a while. “It’s turning dark.”

“Ha! You are as cowardice as a rabbit!” Cohen let out a triumphant laugh, “Fine! You’ll get what you want. Whenever we’ve got out from this place, I’ll tell everyone that you, just like a girl, had been scared to death!”

For now Herbert didn’t care about the insults anymore. He wanted to go home. Thus, the two boys hurried to find the way out. They met a dead end, so they had to take a turn back. Then another dead end appeared. And another dead end. Snow kept falling, leaving a thick white layer covering up all the road signs that the boys had left. The forest got darkened over times, bare trees were becoming monsters of the night and all the paths led to the beginning, obscure like a never-ending nightmarish maze.

“This isn’t right.” Cohen mumbled, “The exit is right over there, I remember!”

But at the place Cohen’s finger was pointing, there were only trees after trees and rocks after rocks like an army assembling at war. Herbert huffed, the fear coiled inside him had been swallowed by his anger:

“I told you! We shouldn’t have gone here, we would be lost. And now we wouldn’t be found!” The boy burst into tears. Everything was so creepy, so cold. He missed his father, he wanted to go home!

“No, no, no, no… There must be a way out.” Cohen grunted, “I will look for it one more time!”

“Cohen, it’s dark. Not a good idea to wander.”

“Shut up, freak! You then will be grateful to me when I’ve found…”

 

_WOOOOO…_

A howl.

Then more long, ear-piercing howls echoed.

 

“That’s…” Cohen’s face went white pale. The two boys got stoned like statues. When they turned their heads to look around, they could see golden spots sparkled behind the canopy of leaves. Eyes.

“Wolves.” Herbert whispered.

“It’s not fair. It’s not really dark. I remember wolves go hunting when…”

“I don’t know.” Herbert gulped. He truly didn’t know, he had no idea of wolves’ habits. “Maybe they heard us rushing around across the bushes.”

“There’re only one or two, aren’t they?”

“Wolves come in pack, Cohen. They’ll soon gather…” Herbert tensed, holding his breath.

Just right as Herbert’s stated, the wolves gathered in a blink of an eye, howling, snarling, keeping their eyes on every single action of the boys. When they came nearer, their silhouettes merged into real beasts under the last orange dim light of sunset. They boys soon saw themselves surrounded by a pack of hungry grey wolves. Herbert, one hand gripped firmly at Cohen’s arm, one hand held tight a wooden branch as a defense weapon, could only whimper in his throat, and squeezed his eyes close as he prayed.

_I will be there for you…_

A loud long howl rang through the air before Herbert heard himself scream at the top of his lungs. A pain like cutting through his spine spread all over one of his arms before it got numb completely. After that, a figure appeared. Herbert remembered seeing red blood spilled on the white snow – which he hoped to cast into oblivion, if he ever survived. He remembered chaos, remembered seeing a pair of glowing red eyes like wild fire, and a familiar voice guiding him to hide under a cape, remembered being covered by a giant shadow. Then all he saw… was darkness.

.

.

Herbert only came back to his consciousness when somebody brushed his hair and hugged him, rocking him back and forth like a mother would do to bring her child to sleep. He realized one arm had been bandaged and could not move – but it still hurt so much that he wouldn’t lift it in anytime soon – while his body had been wrapped with a soft, comfortable cloth, like a nice cozy cocoon. When Herbert shifted and blinked, he saw an exhausted Cohen staring at him, fear and shock still obvious on his face, and right beside Cohen… 

“Papa?” Herbert finally managed to say.

“Yes, Herbert. Papa is here. I am here.” The count answered with a shaking voice, reaching one hand to cup Herbert’s cheek. Herbert had never seen his father so full of distress like this, as if he was trembling. “I thought I had lost you.” By the sight of the crooked grin and moving lips, Herbert knew his father had been crying, or at least sobbing. His father’s eyes were still the peaceful blue that he grew so familiar with, and though the horrible red still tinted the corners of his eyes, those eyes no longer held fury like Herbert recalled, but worry instead. In a moment of overwhelmed bliss, Herbert, without a word, reached out his fine arm, demanding for a cuddle.

The count could do nothing but happily oblige.

Then, Herbert saw something.

When the count bent down to kiss Herbert’s forehead, Herbert could see the wounds on his father’s face and neck were healing, the opened wounds were sealing themselves at a speed which was horrible so much. There were also scalded skin here and there, and when the count smiled at him, he could see fangs. A pair of long pointy fangs, almost like those of a saber-tooth tiger. Herbert gasped.

“Don’t be scared, mein Liebling.” The count gently assured, well aware of what had cause his son such fright.

“Papa, you are… a…” Herbert tried to speak, but his words suddenly got stuck inside his throat, feeling like his tongue had not been able to move anymore.

“Yes I am. But don’t be scared, I never hurt you.”

“You are a vamp…” Herbert exclaimed, only to be stopped with a finger of the count pressed on his lips. The count cooed:

“Hush, my son. Be good.” The count bitterly smiled. “Let this be a secret between only you and me.”

But it was not easy a task to the little boy.

“You are a vampire!”

Herbert could not take it and shrieked in horror. “A blood-sucking demon! I don’t want to die! Let me go!” Herbert cried out, but his weak scream only faded into the blowing wind, responded by no one. He struggled out of his father’s embrace, his legs tried their best to kick but it was all in vain, he was too small compared to the count. He doubted he had ever been able to move at all. Then he turned to reach for Cohen, asking for help, but just to receive a wide opened pair of eyes filled with terror just like his. Desperate, Herbert used both of his arms to push his father away, but immediately regretted as the pain returned to eat him up, and Herbert allowed streams of hot tears to fall freely down his cheeks that were now reddened.

“I don’t want to die…” Herbert’s voice broke and he hiccupped, hands hurried to keep the scarf around his neck in place. He squeezed his eyes tight when his father was about to touch his face, thought that his life was about to end in such a tragic, but only to feel the bony fingers brushed across his cheekbones and then ran through his blond hair. He had never expected the hair brushing from his father that he had always enjoyed now could be so frightful.

It took a while for Herbert to regain his courage to open his eyes. His father was still looking at him, with those still gentle eyes full of worry. Herbert’s breath started to slow down. At that point did the boy realize, the terrible fangs of his father had disappeared.

“Herbert, there’s nothing to fear. I’m still me, I’m still your father.” The count kept his sorrow hidden deep in his eyes, softly assured his son.

“You… are not going to suck my blood, are you?” Herbert finally dared ask, although his voice was even softer than a whisper.

“Of course not, Herbert. I love you.”

“Really?”

“Have I ever lied to you about anything?”

Herbert slightly shook his head. The count lifted him up and carried him in his arms, let Herbert’s head leaned on his shoulder.

“Where have you been?” Herbert sobbed. His tears fell again, but he was whining no more. “I was so scared. It was dark, there were wolves, hurt… and… I was so scared! Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to you earlier. But you are safe now with me. It’s alright. I am here.” The count gently patted Herbert’s head, soothingly. Herbert shuddered at first, but after a while and with his back rubbed, relaxation and calmness had grew over him once more.

“But, what about Cohen?” Herbert happened to remember. He glanced at his school-mate, the boy had not dared run anywhere, and then looked back at his father.

“He won’t remember anything.”

“What?” Herbert yelped. “You… You are going to kill him?”

Herbert’s words had flown into the other boy’s ears, and the poor lad began to shake uncontrollably in fear, wanting to flee right away, but so frightened that his muscles tensed and his legs had no longer obeyed his wish.

“No, Herbert, I won’t harm him, either.” The count confirmed. “I will only take a bit of his memory. He’ll just forget what happened a few moments before.”

So saying, the count put his son laying on the ground, his cape was still wrapping around the little boy. “Wait for me for only a brief while, won’t you?” He turned to Cohen. Upon seeing that the lad was terrified, the count gave him a determined look, promising that everything would be alright, before he took hold of Cohen’s head between his palms, as gently as the way he would pamper any child. Their foreheads touched. The count started to whisper, almost like chanting, but neither Herbert nor Cohen could comprehend what that strange language was and what it meant. Herbert did not even have the chance to listen the second time, when the count soon held him again, and staring at him was a concerning look of Cohen.

“I’m sorry, mousie.” Cohen mumbled as he returned the woolen hat.

“It’s alright.” Herbert smiled before he felt the giant yet peaceful shadow covered him once more.

 


	4. Midnight Guest

Herbert was exhausted, drained to the last drop of his scanty strength. Yet, he could not have a deep sleep. He shifted all night long, with his arm still hurt badly – fortunately, it had been better since he got home and had proper medical treatment, but be able to roll on only one side was uncomfortable – and his body ached so much that he thought he had been trampled under a wagon. He hoped the doctor would bring all the pain away the next time he met them.

There was knocking. The sound was too far to be on his bedroom door, so he thought it came from the main door of the manor and decided to ignore it. But silent nights made people hear the tiniest noises such as pamphlets flying off the street lamps while strong wind was blowing outside the tightly shut windows, so the knocking got more and more distinct, therefore, more and more annoying. It was a relief that the knocking soon stopped, replaced by the creaking of the large wooden door. And there were voices. His father’s voice and someone else’s. Herbert wondered what kind of work so important that kept his father stay up this late, but his dizzy head and sore muscles in need of a rest quickly brought him back to sleep before he could think of anything. The next time Herbert opened his eyes, he saw his father in his bedroom.

.

.

The count had the feeling of something was not quite right. Usually, no one – or more accurate, no human being – would paid him a visit in the dead of night like this. Even if there were important assignments, they had to send announcement first. Then this time it had to be something in real urgency, he thought. But then, a wave of anxiety washed over him as he recalled what had happened that evening. If someone had happened to have seen him…

Placing a hand on the door knob, the count carefully and politely asked:

“May I know who this is?”

A low and warm voice replied, “Hello. Is this the manor of the Krolock family?”

“Yes, sir, it is. And you are?”

“I hurtled against a von Krolock by total accident at some time before sunset. May I meet him?”

“For what, sir, if I am allowed to know?”

“It’s a personal matter.”

A short pause of silence occurred.

The moment the door was opened, the man standing outside swore he was facing a masterpiece of the world creators – well, at least he felt that way. The count was as good-looking as any young noble gentlemen walking down the streets with their ladies every morning, except that he had long hair, which was quite rare in this area, and he owned a specific aura of power and sharpness that not every man could have. The count’s face was fine under the bright moon, even though, it was not flawless. For it was a bit too gaunt, on the two cheekbones were patches of dark red and scar-like skin, as if they had been burnt but not yet healed completely. And the man had been so drowned in those vivid blue eyes that he didn’t hear the question: “What can I help you?”

About the count, no wondered why he was perplexed in front of this stranger. The man just kept staring, almost like observing, and there was something about him that didn’t seem to be human at all. Putting aside his unusual pale skin – because one could not be sure if it was because of the cold light of the moon or not – the skin around the stranger’s eyes were bloody red, while his orbs were white the white shade of silver and filled with unearthly wildness.

“Excuse me, what can I help you?” The count asked again, patiently.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Being brought back to reality made the stranger feel awkward. “Forgive me for bothering you at this time, sir. But I wonder if I can have a casual conversation with you? I see that you are an interesting man, and it would be very nice if I could be your acquaintance.”

Although the stranger just made the count’s confusion get more confused – the man either had lost his mind, or was trying to drag other people in some illegal business – the count still stayed polite:

“Of course. But may I ask: why must you choose this time? You know, it’s really late.”

“Oh!” The stranger laughed out loud amicably.,“Talking a little while taking in the fresh air and peace of the night is indeed a good idea, don’t you think? Besides, I believe that you have no problems with that, don’t you? Since you are a night bird as well!”

“What do you mean by night bird?”

“You are wearing your formal clothes instead of sleep wear.” The stranger pointed out, “Isn’t that enough to say you are a night bird?”

“Ah, yes.” The count reluctantly smiled, not showing his sigh of relief.

Out of a sudden, the stranger changed his topic.

“Does it hurt?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your face. I guess that you got burnt, yes?”

“Oh, this?” The count said as he touched his own cheekbones. The skin was still rough there, but he didn’t have to suffer from pain anymore. “Well… Accident in the kitchen. I was careless.”

“I see. I thought it was because of the sun.” The stranger nodded and crooned. It worried the count, but he didn’t allow the stranger to notice it. He asked:

“What made you think so?”

“In the evening, when your hood came off, I heard you hiss. It sounded really painful.” The man winced as he described. “To be honest, it was because of that that you made me curious so much.” He step by step walked closer, only stopped when he was only three steps away from the count. “And, I see that you are very beautiful. Oh, please don’t laugh, I am not joking. But your skin is so oddly pale, and I don’t think it was so cold that you had to cover yourself up like that. Are you ill?”

“Many thanks for your concern, but I am totally healthy.” The count forced a smile, as he began to step back inside the house. He had started to rise real panic at this stranger. The man might seem harmless and friendly, but his questions and action showed the opposite, and the count felt he was under attack. “If you don’t mind, I apologize, but I think we should choose a more suitable time for a conversation, because I still have assignments to finish now.”

The count had barely ended his sentence did he see his arm got seized again, and the silver eyes of the stranger were looking through his soul.

“A little bit longer, please?” The man begged with a sweet voice. “You do attract me, you know that?”

“What an honour, sir.” The count confusedly thanked while trying to get out of the stranger’s firm grip. It was uncomfortable, and the count doubted he could escape any bruises. For devil’s sake, how came the man be that strong?

“Do you know anything about vampires?”

The question was sudden and seemed to be deviated from the subject, yet it had struck the count right on his heart. It made him stop struggling, frozen like ice. If he were scared, he was trying not to show it. Keeping his expression and voice as calm as possible, he nodded: “I’ve heard about them.”

“Do you believe in them?” The man asked, still with that friendly tone.

“This… This conversation is becoming ridiculous.” The count averted his eyes, puzzled. He didn’t expect to be asked so straight-forwardly like this, and he had no idea how to answer so as not to reveal himself. Finally managed to yank his arm off the grip, he made his excuse again, and decided to close the door, pushing the man outside.

“Because there are so many similarities between you and the vampires I’ve met.” The man was such a stubborn one, he wormed his way through and blocked right at the threshold, kept the door never close.

“I don’t know what to say about that, sir. Please forgive me.” The count responded as he continued pushing the door, trying to let the man know that he was in the mood for no more chatting, and trying to prevent him from getting inside the house. “It’s really late, so I can’t keep company with you at this moment. If it’s because of fate, I believe we will have the chance to meet again in the future!” The door at last was slammed shut, and the count gasped through the wooden thing: “Goodnight, sir.”

Leaning against the wall, the count took in a deep breath to regain his calm, though he was still shocked to the core after what had happened. He didn’t even notice that he was sweating in fear. No need to re-open the door or peak through the peephole, he could still feel the stranger standing there smiling. He knew not how, but he could sense it. A few seconds later, he heard the clopping sound of boots on the rocky step-way. The stranger had left.

After letting out a long sigh of relief, the count started to recall everything he had done in the past three years. No, it could not be possible that someone might find out he was a vampire, he had been so, no, too careful. He had always been too careful. But tonight, a man nobody knew whether was insane or not had turned up at his door and questioned about the count’s true self. “He mentioned other vampires. If he were a vampire hunter…” The count thought. He could not risk with these people. This place was not safe anymore. If anyone found out he was a vampire, then not only him, but also his little Herbert would be in danger. Mental images of his son being called “the devil child” and being tortured either physically or mentally shattered the count’s heart into a thousand pieces, and he clenched his fist, knuckles grew white.

The count rushed upstairs. 

 


	5. This Place Is Not Safe Anymore

The candle had not yet burnt a half, Herbert had been woken up by the sound of someone moving around in his room. There were sounds of the wardrobes opened and closed, the clacking of suitcases locks, and the rustle of clothes. Opened one sleepy eye to look around, he saw a dark figure by his bed. It was lean, but tall to almost giant. As soon as Herbert realized who that shadow was, he let out a small moan and rolled over to lie on his stomach, and then rolled back again, facing the ceiling.

“Oh Herbert, I intended to let you sleep a little more. Did I wake you up?”

The count was kneeling on the floor, he looked up at Herbert for a few brief seconds before looked down again, hands still folding clothes to put into suitcases as well as other stuffs. The boy bolted right up, confused. What was father doing in his room in the middle of the night? And whatever he was doing, why did he act as if he was running out of time? And, why did his room seem somehow… different? It looked much more… spacious. Oh Herbert wished he could get rid of those questions floating in his head so he could return to his sleep, his eyelids were still so heavy while his mind was fuzzy like fog. But as soon as he noticed the count had been finely dressed in his cape and there were suitcases placed at the doorway as well as boxes laying on the floor, a thought flicked out in Herbert’s mind, and the boy’s eyes went wide. He grew worried, more like panicked, showed it by his trembling voice:

“Papa… What are you doing?”

“Herbert, I’m sorry.” The count gently said as he turned to face Herbert, tried to find the right words to let the boy know what was going on but not to worry him as the same time. “I’ve messed everything up.”

“Papa, what are you saying?”

“Herbert, things have grown worse than it used to be, I must…”

“You are going to leave?” Not letting his father finish his sentence, Herbert squealed. Hysterically, he grabbed his father’s arm, held it as tight as he could and brought it close to his chest. “Papa! Are you leaving me? Is it because of what I did this evening?”

“Herbert, be good. Silent and listen to me.”

“Papa I’m sorry!” Herbert cut off and started to cry. He squeezed his father’s arm, digging his nails into the count’s sleeves as he clung onto his father like a frightened baby. But indeed, he was really frightened. He didn’t have any memory of his mother going away, but it already left a hole inside his heart. Seeing father turning his back to him with his own eyes would be far too much to bear. “I promise I will be good! Please don’t go, don’t leave me!” Herbert looked up with blurry-teary eyes, “I’m sorry I only bring you troubles, but I’m sorry! I won’t deny you like what I did this evening, I will be good!”

Herbert’s cries grew more and more heart-rending as he begged his father to stay. The count sighed. He climbed on the bed to sit with Herbert, let his son snuggle in his lap. The boy was still wailing when the count rubbed his back. Herbert had to make father stay! He only just found happiness because father had promised not to leave him, but now father was going to go away like mother, that meant Herbert had to be alone forever? Herbert would not stand it!

When Herbert was tired, and his cries had turned into sobs, the count soothed:

“Herbert, mein Liebling. Don’t cry, I’m sorry I scared you…”

“Papa is not scary!” Herbert hiccupped. “Herbert won’t be afraid because papa is a… vampire anymore. Herbert won’t try to run away from papa like this evening. Herbert… Herbert won’t let anyone know, too, promise. Herbert just doesn’t want papa to leave.”

“Hush now, my son. I’m here.” The count assured, held his son tighter. “There’s nothing to fear. I’m not leaving you. Never.”

“I promise to be good. Just don’t go… please?”

“I know Herbert is a good boy. How can I ever leave you?” The count praised.

“Verlass mich nicht…” Herbert whispered in his tears. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Only at that moment did Herbert stopped sobbing and looked up at his father, who used his thumbs and sleeves to wipe the flowing tears on his eyes and cheeks. After giving Herbert a warm hug, the count continued, his voice stern but still gentle:

“I don’t abandon you, don’t you afraid. But we must leave this place, Herbert.” The count emphasized the word ‘ _we’_ as he spoke. “We have to move. This place is not safe anymore.” Upon seeing his son’s perplexed stare, the count gave an easy smile to assure him not to worry too much, then went on, “You know, Herbert, it seems that someone has found out I’m a vampire. It means that I’m in danger, people will force me to leave you…”

“Because they think vampires are evil?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re different! I’m sorry, that I used to think like everyone else, but papa is not evil. You saved me, and also Cohen!”

“There’re things you’ll understand when you’ve grown up.” The count shook his head. “But now, we have to go. If everyone knows, they will separate us, then I can’t protect you anymore. I don’t want to lose you.” He showed deep sorrow as he said the last words, lean forward and clutched at Herbert’s tiny hands. “I’m sorry that it’s so abrupt, but I have no choices. Do you understand? Good. Your belongings, I have prepared. We can depart in minutes.”

Herbert said nothing. He just slightly nodded and reached to wrap his arms around his father’s neck, nuzzling his hair.

“Papa, where are we going, then?” The boy sweetly asked, observing his room one last time. He would have to say goodbye to the other rooms, too, and also the library. He wondered what would become of this manor after they left. It might be full off dust and abandoned, but some people might make use of it. It might be still his father’s manor and he could come back to visit it when possible.

“We’re moving to Transylvania. You’ll stay there with me, and you will receive tuition right at home. I know there have been so few times we spent together, but worry not, from now on I’ll be with you. Nobody or nothing will be able to threaten you anymore, Herbert.”

“Is it a comfortable place? Is it beautiful? Will I have friends there?” Herbert innocently asked.

“Of course! It’s a bit colder than here, well, maybe much colder than this place, so I expect you to dress properly or you’ll get sick, but it’s beautiful in its own way. And I’m sure you’ll have friends to play with.”

“Then where are we going to live? Do we have another big house like this?”

“More than this!” The count laughed, which lightened Herbert’s eyes with joy. “I have a castle, a castle of my own. You will love it.”

“A castle?” Herbert beamed. “I’m going to live in a castle? Like a prince?”

“Yes, Herbert. You will have your castle.”

When Herbert tightened his embrace around his father and giggled, on the count’s lips appeared a smile of happiness.

 


	6. Dance Of The Vampires

_Transylvanian Mountains, 1873._

The winter moon brought life to the land deep in darkness with her lively bright light. The pure silver beams danced gracefully on the trees, wandered on the cool water pond in the garden, and settled on the window bars of the Afanas castle. It was hard for one to find this castle somber, for it located not far away from the crowded towns down there, always full of guests and meetings, but the architecture was ancient just like its owner, and the moonlight gave the black walls made of rock pretty highlights under the starry sky. Midnight had come. But it seemed that the night wouldn’t break into dawn in any time soon, therefore, the boisterous ball in the castle hall would find it no hurry to end.

Herbert always love traditional balls like this, for it was the occasions for him to dress as splendidly as he loved and to also proudly show off the power that he inherited from his father. Brushing back his hair and pinned it in place neatly, Herbert chuckled as he could not see his reflection anymore, but he knew so well that he looked as gorgeous as a peacock in his lavender suit and went on enjoying his time. Though, he couldn’t help worrying. Because this year it was the Afanas family’s turn to host the ball, but Sarah and Alfred were still too young in their vampire years to attend, so only Herbert was allowed to follow his father. He hoped that Sarah wouldn’t spend the whole night in the bathtub again, but for being a vampire she could have caught a terrible cold, and Herbert hoped that that bastard Ludwig wouldn’t teased Alfred to the point of making the poor boy cry – which resulted in Alfred hiding in the closet for hours until Koukol found him again.

Herbert, still deep in his thought, burst out a small laugh as he remembered the time when his beloved Alfred kept wailing when Ludwig had successfully convinced him that Herbert would be crossed and even sell him away for ruining an expensive waistcoat. “What a naïve young man.” Herbert thought. Alfred was already a man, actually, but his past had been days after days burying in books and papers that he had so few experiences in real life and was quite easily confused to tell what was a joke and what was not. So unlike Herbert, and even opposite to Ludwig. But then Herbert’s thoughts had to stop right there because of a question. It was like a rope pull him back to reality, and Herbert realized he had changed dance partner. This person was no one but the owner of the castle, the lord of the Afanas family.

“Is it because there’s something funny on my face, or on your mind there’s an interesting story?”

 Herbert awkwardly smiled, feeling a bit embarrassed for having been caught red-handed dreaming like a fool, while the other man was at a higher position than him. He bowed and said:

“Your Highness, I never found anything ridiculously funny about you.”

The man laughed aloud in his full content, his silvered eyes pure as the moonlight were lit up with relish.

“Then may I ask, what has made you so happy that you couldn’t help smiling?”

“That’s nothing should trouble you, Highness. Only a few things happened at home.”

“I see.” Lord Afanas nodded as he, together with Herbert, walked away from the dance floor and he offered Herbert a drink. He was much more of a casual man than many of the noble people, and anyone could find the lord friendly chatting with any person of any class in town, though it was famous of him that he was a bit highly strung sometimes. Once Herbert had finished another sip of wine, Lord Afanas asked, the question seemed to have nothing to do with what they were discussing, “You are a von Krolock, aren’t you? Viscount Herbert von Krolock, am I right?”

“It’s me.”

“Wonderful!” The man exclaimed.

“What is it about me that makes you so excited?”

“Ah, because I’ve heard about the Krolocks.” He explained, tended to stammer a little. “With all the trustworthy and courageous people for ages. Especially your father!” His eyes sparkled with joy as he praised, “I’ve met your father before, mostly at meetings of the local businessmen, but I admit that I do admire him. It’s really hard these days to find a man who can keep a cool head all the times and remain a knight of righteous as best as he can after many events like your father. I myself cannot be half as that.”

“It’s such an honour to my family, but your Highness should not say about yourself like that.” Herbert thanked.

“But the last time we talked to each other was months ago.” Lord Afanas went on, “And the discussion was only about the division of territories and how to deal with the drought at hand. It turned out to be really tense, I recall. To be honest, hardly ever I share small talks with your father. Yet, I do wish to meet him. Your father, Count von Krolock… I see he always refers to his title instead of his given name, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s true. And oh, my father is right over there.” Herbert replied as he pointed to the stairs in the middle of the hall, where a man in dark red was standing, kept company with some fair ladies.

“Oh.” Lord Afanas mumbled softly to himself, a bit of disappointment in his tone as his eyes followed Herbert’s direction. “Viscount Herbert von Krolock, if you don’t mind…” Afanas still kept his gaze at the stairs as he spoke.

Understood, Herbert was quick to reply:

“Not at all! You can go meet my father!”

Lord Afanas beamed just as brightly as the moon, and he thanked Herbert before heading to the mentioned man. But after only a few steps, he paused, then came back to ask the young viscount:

“Well… Will you let me know a bit more of your father, please? Like, is there anything he particularly hates or never wants to think, to talk about?” He stammered, trying to find the right words to explained, “You know, I rarely have the chance to gain an easy conversation from your father. A lord and old as I am, I’m still not really a good man in keeping company with anyone unless it’s in a business relationship. So I’m afraid I’ll make your father upset by mistakes. We both don’t want that to happen, do we?”

“Oh, worry not, your Highness!” Herbert waved his hand. “My father perhaps seems to be a man of few words and always wear that gloomy face, but it’s merely a first impression. He’s indeed quite gentle and tolerant, and he would let you know if there were anything bother him once he’s fond of you, which I believe he will!” The Viscount smiled a convincing smile.

It helped Lord Afanas with his nerve, and he decided to head towards the stairs. Meanwhile, Herbert felt somehow confused.

 


	7. Accident

A yelp came out from Count von Krolock when he was standing at the stairs. He remembered listening to the castle’s owner’s story, then turned his head a little to observe the ball room as a habit, and in a blink of an eye when he turned back, the other man had been pushed against him by some naughty children running by. It was all out of a sudden that he saw himself dumb-founded for a few long seconds, and so did the man in front of him, wine spilled on over his clothes.

“Please forgive me, my guest of honour!” The other man profusely apologized, his hand fumbled to reach for his handkerchief. “It’s so careless of me.” He went on, using the handkerchief to cleaned off the red liquid on his guest’s coat and shirt.

“There’s no need. Only a little damp, I’m sure I’ll get it cleaned and dry when I get home.” Count von Krolock waved off at the host’s offer to let him stay for the day as an apology. Though his clothes were far more than damp like he said and even reeking smell of wine, the count was not a man in shortage of money to buy new costumes, and he didn’t find it proper to bother the castle’s owner, not when the man had been hosting a huge ball and must be taking care of many other guests. He was not on the list of the guests who would spend the next day here, either.

“No way! Your top is all wet as well as your trousers, and there’s even the smell… An Afanas can not be that irresponsible!”

The castle’s owner begged for quite a while, his voice changed from desperate to sweet like sugar, which made the guest soften and had to accept the offer. After all, Count von Krolock understood how important honour was, if the host had genuinely wished to do that, it’d better to please him, otherwise he would lose his face after such an accident. Besides, it could be considered rude to insist on refusing while others dearly wanted to help. 

“Please follow me. There’ll be clothes for you to change.”

Count von Krolock nodded slowly, then followed the castle’s owner upstairs, leaving the still heated winter ball behind. “Where’s Herbert?” He wondered, eyes darting to see whether his son had gathered up with anyone. “Must let him know so he won’t need to wait for me tonight.”

But before the count could think of anything else, he had seen himself being pulled through the dark corridors. So he had to quicken his paces, or he would lose his balance and fall forwards. He even tripped on his own cape sometimes. Lord Afanas seemed to be an impatient man – so opposite to the count – for he hurried as if he was afraid of some invisible monster behind, but never dared run for fear he would drive it mad. He tightened his grip on Count von Krolock’s arm, with a bit too much strength to almost like dragging a doll, and it made the count uncomfortable. A strange feeling bothered Count von Krolock, as if history had repeated itself, he found this perplexing moment was really familiar, and was sure that it had to occur some time before. But centuries had passed together with millions of different events, everything had turned so wooly that the count could not yet figure out anything.

He stopped thinking when they walked in a large bedroom of the guest quarter, though it was not the one that Count von Krolock stayed when he arrived right before the ball. Why, the count had no clue except the fact that it was vacant, and before he asked, Lord Afanas had glided around the bed, and without a word, disappeared into an attached room. Maybe it was the nearest room to be vacant, he thought.

This bedroom was as big as the ones in the Krolock castle, the count studied, filled with evidences of luxury and wealth – rich hardwood, plush fabric, gliding... It wore an antique colour of old ages, but unlike most of the rooms at the Krolock castle, it still brimmed with life thanks to the chandelier and candles as well as being polished from any powdery grey ash. It seemed that the Afanas often had their rooms occupied.

Minutes later Lord Afanas returned with a handful of clothes and handed them to the count. 

“Here’s your new clothes. I hope they will fit.” Lord Afanas started, “I do apologize for my recent carelessness.”

“It’s simply an accident, sir Afanas. I know it’s never been your fault, or anyone’s fault.” Count von Krolock slightly smiled, “I’m so grateful of your heart-warming offer.”

“I will announce your son about this incident soon, so worry not. It’s not necessary to make a long way back to the your previous room, your belongings will also be here with you in no long time. If there’s anything you need, just call, and I will have my servants fulfil your wishes. You are my guest, after all, and my guests deserve the best.”

“Thank you.”

“May I ask you a favour?”

“Of course.”

“Since you are a guest of honour of mine, I find it’s too formal and serious when you keep address me with ‘sir’ or my family name. So please call me by my given name, Anze.” Lord Afanas crinkled his eyes, just to bring dejà vu once more to Krolock with his smile and cheerful eyes. “Moreover, I would be more than happy to be closer to you, as a friend I believe, than just a mere… acquaintance.”

“What an honour, sir Afanas.”

“Please, call me Anze.” The other man reminded.

“Ah, yes. Anze.” Count von Krolock nodded. Lord Afanas went on, this time hesitated:

“I know I shouldn’t ask so much from my guest, but… May I ask you another little favour?”

“Yes?”

“Can I know…” The lord’s voice grew small as he said, as if for fear he would upset the count for questioning about what he had been hiding so long, “what your real name is, please? It would be wonderful if I got the chance to call you by it. Like friends.”

“It’s just Krolock…” Count von Krolock’s face suddenly fell as he softened his voice, and anyone could feel that he was repressing a sigh. The other man swallowed hard, knowing he had made the wrong choice. But Count von Krolock was still as collect as always, “Only Krolock is fine.”

“I see.” Lord Afanas’s smile faded, “Then, may you enjoy your night, my dear Krolock.”

 


	8. Dejà Vu

The noisy sound of chatting as well as the melodious music grew softer and softer when the dark shade of night sky turned into purple, and to one point silence at last had conquered, making even the slightest footsteps rang through the maleficent castle. The ball had come to an end, and most of the guests had retired to their rooms to rest for the day. Roosters crowed from a nearby village, a sign that the sun was about to rise, and Count von Krolock was grateful as the heavy curtains had fallen down a long time ago.

Lord Afanas had been generous enough to lend the count a nightshirt when he noticed him going to bed with formal suit on. Not because the count didn’t have any sleepwear, but he only arrived a few hours before the midnight ball due to some business in the city, therefore he only wear one red suit – which obviously was stained afterwards. The nightshirt was a little baggy, with sleeves so long that they covered half of the count’s hand, but it was soft enough for him to relax on the big bed.

But Count von Krolock couldn’t sleep. He just lied there, facing the ceiling, deep in his thoughts as he tried to collect the wandering memories. The moment he first met Lord Afanas, he had had a vague feeling that something was not right, not because the man seemed to be indecent, but because as if he had met the man ages before. The lord looked so familiar, but at the same time was like a new face to the count. When Count von Krolock was tugged along those dark corridors, that strange feeling of dejà vu rose again, and he knew he had been dragged around like this some time before, but the count could not be sure when. Let’s see, ever since he and Herbert moved to Transylvania, he had become a more serious man – or more accurate, vampire – and to a vampire, the longer he existed, the more powerful he became. That explained why there were unwritten laws in the community of the undead that no one in full senses would ever risk behaving ill-manneredly towards others. Therefore, the pieces of memory that the count was searching had to occur even earlier, he believed, when he owned less power, before he moved to Transylvania.

What did he do before moving to Transylvania?

Oh how could he remember it all? It’d been hundreds of years. Perhaps he couldn’t even remember why he moved to Transylvania!

 

_Oh wait…_

 

The reason why he came to Transylvania…

 

Images of the past started to whirl in Count von Krolock’s mind like a tornado as he connected the dots, and he bolted right up as things began to make sense. In a blink of an eye, he had seen himself pacing around from outside the bedroom door.

Realized he was standing still in the middle of a corridor, Count von Krolock quickened his steps on the carpet floor, lurking in the shadows.

 

“Have you not rested?”

 

A low voice rang, somehow sent chill down the count’s spine. He stopped, though his legs wanted to flee for no reason at all and his mind wanted to ignore that voice, but all at once, he had seen him facing the one who spoke.

“Is there anything troubles you?” The voice continued, worried.

“Everything is fine, sir.” Krolock replied, “It’s only some questions in head that keep me awake, and I thought walking a bit would help me clear my mind enough to solve them. I apology for roaming around in your manor like this.”

“No problem at all. Just be careful since it’s day time.” Lord Afanas laughed off, “I’ll leave you with your thoughts.”

Count von Krolock clasped his fingers together in front of him as he silently walked along the long corridor, brows knitted close into a frown as he dived deep into his thoughts. Lord Afanas, though, hurried by his side, but with a reason that he was heading back to his room and they were only happened to be on the same path. Count von Krolock chewed on the inside of his cheek, an unsettling expression on his face. In fact, he had known why he found Lord Afanas so familiar. The castle’s owner shared the same appearance with a person the count had met ages before, though “that person” was much younger in his memory and gave him a feeling of being threatened. Meanwhile, Afanas was too amicable that Krolock felt guilty doubting him. Count von Krolock wondered if all the evidences he had collected were right, or all of them were simply a coincidence.

“Um… What’s on your mind that bothers you so much, may I ask?” Lord Afanas rushed ahead to face his guest when they’d almost finished a lap around the guest quarter. “I’m more willing to help.”

Count von Krolock pondered for a moment whether he should ask so directly, but did it after all, “Do you mind if I go on? Actually, it’s you I’ve been asking myself.”

“I’ll answer if I can.” Lord Afanas slightly raised his brows in curious.

Count von Krolock tended to speak, but then, something in his mind stopped him. The man heaved a sigh, and he blamed himself. Was it unwise to query so soon?

Suddenly, a wind blew open a nearby old window before the two men could talk of anything. Sunlight took its opportunity to flow inside the castle like streams pouring down a waterfall, and the beams landed on the back of Lord Afanas. With no hesitation, Count von Krolock reached out to grab at the man’s shoulders, pulled him into the shadows with him, staying away from the deadly light. Unfortunately, both of them stumbled and swirled around. When the count was able to regain his balance, his back was against a wall with his hands still on Lord Afanas shoulders, while the lord was nearly pressing his whole body upon him. Although Lord Afanas was only a tiny bit taller than the count, the man was more muscular, and he was wearing his cape while the count was not, which made he looked even more giant and seemed to cover Count von Krolock completely.

Count von Krolock swore, though he never showed it, that his heart had screamed and attempted to jump out of his chest when Lord Afanas’ wide opened eyes stared straight into him in such a distance as short as a man’s breath.

“Excuse me!” Lord Afanas gasped, hurried to step backwards. “What did just happen?”

“You could have perished. The sun… it shines right on your back.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Afanas whispered softly. He took in a deep breath to calm down, and why, Krolock had no clue, he suddenly grinned. The grin soon turned into giggles, with something like amusement in the man’s eyes. Seeing an expression of perplexity on the count’s face, he explained, “I am honestly grateful to you. But, the sun can never do any harm to me.”

Count von Krolock cocked his head, confused.

“You know, Carpathian vampires can move about freely in broad daylight.” Lord Afanas said, “How, I have no idea, but it’s been like that since our ancestors set foot on this mountain range. I guess that’s why a few of us have not too pale skin and sometimes even red, which is much like an alive human. It brings us more advantages than Draculian ones like you, though I suppose we still both bear the same other weaknesses.”

As if he was afraid the other count still didn’t believe, Lord Afanas walked closer to the opened window. Count von Krolock wanted to stop the man before he burnt himself to a live torch, but soon petrified in aghast as the man was safe and sound under the sun, even a tiny scar of burning was nowhere in sight, while the count himself already felt his eyes hurt for staring at the light from a far distance.

It took a few minutes with Lord Afanas triumphantly stood there, arms crossed across his chest before the count managed to start:

“I’m sorry. Just because I didn’t expect you to be one of… I just thought you was about to burst into flame.”

“It’s really kind of you to worry for others’ sake. I mean it.” Lord Afanas honestly confessed as he faced Count von Krolock once more. “Thank you.” He gently said, then asked, “Back to the matter at hand, what do you need to know about me?”

A few more moments passed by, Count von Krolock was still deep in consideration.

“It’s alright if you’ve not yet made up your mind. Take your time. You can ask whenever you feel suitable.” Afanas suggested.

“Oh, thank you. I apology for bothering you. I’ve thought again, the questions can wait. I should query at a different time, when my mind is wiser.”

With no more words, Count von Krolock bowed politely and walked past the vampire in front of him, soon disappeared into darkness.

 


	9. Suspicion

The noise from the castle gate kept growing louder, sounded like there was a quarrel which didn’t seem to cool down at all. Herbert grumbled, leaving his interesting game of chess with Alfred and Ludwig – actually, only Alfred and Ludwig were taking part, Herbert just sat there as a commentor for he was not really into chess. “Where on Earth is Magda? Didn’t she say she is working here as well?” Herbert mumbled to himself. Father had agreed that the lady should stay as long as she wished in order to get used to her new “unlife”, and since then Magda had been welcomed as a part of the family just like how Ludwig was adopted years ago – though the young man never considered himself anyone higher than a friend to the Krolock family, and often founded helping with forges in towns or the nearby village rather than being in the castle. “I’m not fond of dealing with ruckus like this.”   

As soon as he reached the main hall, Herbert faced Koukol. The old butler rushed inside with obvious discontentment. Upon seeing the viscount, Koukol started his complaining, upset enough to explode. It turned out that since late noon there had been a man calling himself a friend of the family and demanded to meet Count von Krolock. He said he wanted to return something important to the count, and insisted on meeting the count himself, refusing to have Koukol hand on the thing for him. Though Koukol had explained that Count von Krolock was absent, the old butler could not just let stranger come inside the castle without his master’s permission like that, but his deformed mouth could only squawked out inaudible sounds, which led to the stranger’s failure to comprehend. It was because of such a fuss about nonsense that all Koukol’s chores had been delayed, thus he got so irritated that he had to come get Herbert deal with the man. 

When Herbert recognized the stranger who interrupted his entertainment, he, unfortunately, could not hold his giggles.

“Oh! Good evening, your Highness!” Herbert exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Hearing Koukol row so loudly made me thought he was facing some kind of vagabond!” The man’s brows both raised up in a surprise expression at Herbert’s comment, and it was like a snap to Herbert. Trying to restrain his improper laugh, Herbert cleared his throat and calmed himself, then went on, “I do apology, I couldn’t control myself. That’s so impolite, father will be disappointed. May your Highness forgive the recent disrespect of the butler and of me as well…”, said, he bowed his head, “Lord Afanas.”

“Nay, I don’t mind a bit. Actually, I was wrong as well.” Lord Afanas gave an easy smile. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a plain grey suit from a trip to a miserable neighborhood at the other end of the nearest city, it would be no surprise if the old butler didn’t believe he was one of the nobles. The old man shooed him away just because his duty ordered him to do so. “Hard to keep one’s head cool when being a hot tempered. Believe me, it’s been improving since I was entitled as a lord.” The lord’s eyes softened, but the smile never faded. “Such a delight to have you come greeting me, dear Viscount Herbert von Krolock… - _sigh_ \- At last I can talk easily. Your butler, I have to admit, I can’t understand any of his words.”

“I see. Koukol was unlucky to be born without a normal body. Therefore the old man always find inconvenience in communication, poor him, but one can not deny that he is a good servant and takes excellent cares of us.” Chuckled Herbert. Koukol would puff up at the praise had he been here. “But back to the matter at hand, what can I help you?”

“There’s some affair needs to be done. Is your father at home?”

“I’m afraid he’s been downtown for a day and night.”

Lord Afanas’ face fell at Herbert’s words. But the young viscount soon lifted him up again, “Though, father will be back in no long time. If his timing is impeccable, then he'll be here in about an hour. If your Highness doesn’t mind, please come in.”

Perhaps the only one not to agree on welcoming Lord Afanas was Koukol, for the old hunchback looked askew and gave a warning glare to the lord, as he huffed to prepare their drinks. Before leaving the living room, he didn’t even forget to slap down the tray on the table.

“So, your Highness…”, Herbert started.

“My dear young man”, Lord Afanas cut off, “You don’t need to address me with formal titles like that whenever you start a sentence. We’ve known each other for no short break, isn’t a little comfort in communicating better? I know your father taught you well manners and what is proper, but this is my order, there’s no need to show such great respect like that. If you insisted, a simple ‘sir’ would be suffice.”

“I will remember, your High…sir.” Herbert laughed softly, “Then, as a viscount of the Krolock family and the only son of my father, I have the responsibility to concern about whatever matters my father is facing. Is the affair that you need to discuss with my father among the things I’m allowed to question?”

“Of course! Well, in fact, why I need to meet your father… it’s not really a big deal. I just want to give him something.” 

“The thing must be very important, isn’t it? Because my butler informed me that you demanded to hand it to my father all by yourself.”

“About that…” Lord Afanas hesitated, “No, to other people… it’s not really important. I simply want to return your father his costume that I, by accident, stained at the midnight ball.”

“Oh, no wonders…” Herbert tapped his finger on his chin, making a face as if he just figured out something.

“No wonders?”

“Ah, yes. After the ball my father came back home in an outfit I found completely strange, which I was beyond sure because it does not fully fit. It was splendid, though, but father had sent it away before I had the chance to give it a second glance. It was you who lent it to my father, I suppose?” Didn’t wait for an answer, Herbert let himself free to unravel. “Oh... Oh I see! The stained clothes, that’s why you invited my father to stay, didn’t you?”

Lord Afanas slightly nodded.

“Yet your servants informed me it was because of some important issues! Tsk tsk! You could have told me the truth, I wouldn’t mind anything. Oh! Almighty Lord, I am sorry, I could not control myself again.”

Lord Afanas knew nothing to say, so he just affably smiled.

“But... I don’t understand.” Herbert’s voice now grew wondering, “You could have had your men return the costumes, why forced yourself travel such a long journey to this mountain peak to hand it to my father all on your own? It’s two days on horseback from your castle to here!”

“I happened to pass by, so I decided that dropping at your castle would be convenient.” He explained, “And besides, well...” He sighed, stammered, reached out a hand to brush back his hair. “I also want to see your father.”

So saying, Lord Afanas turned to stand facing the window, fingers clasped together. With the unsettling expression on his face, one could easily guess that he was blushing, were he able to blush anymore. If he was planning to grow suspicion inside the young viscount, then he had succeeded. Though, the viscount still decided to set his doubts aside, then thanked:

“What an honour to my family.”

“Your father is indeed a nice gentleman like you said, dear Herbert. It’s been so long a time since I had anyone so understanding like him to confide in. I would love to see him again...”

As soon as Lord Afanas ended his words, from outside the castle gate rang the sound of horse paces. Count von Krolock had returned.

.

.

Lord Afanas would consider himself the happiest vampire on this Earth. There was a strange feeling pricking inside him, like butterfly in the stomach, while his cheeks seemed to feel hot whenever he thought of Count von Krolock, or whenever they stood close. He felt himself so clumsy in front of Count von Krolock no matter what he did and no matter how he tried, and Lord Afanas wondered, was it true that he, at last, had fallen for someone once more.

The two men had grown comfortable talking with each other, and they finally had shared more personal things the ways friends usually did. The count didn’t appear to have many companions, therefore this was a good sign for Lord Afanas, as the man knew Krolock was trully fond of him just like Herbert assured. Count von Krolock had adopted a fledgling recently, Lord Afanas learned, whose name was Sarah and she was an adventurous young girl, and the viscount himself had found his other half who of course was welcomed to the family as well. Lord Afanas realized that the count, in fact, always cared for his family before he cared for himself, what a sweet single father he was, though he seemed to be so full of sorrow and neglected himself all the times, and the lord was afraid that people might take advantage over the count’s gentle heart. Count von Krolock in front of him was so different from the first impression he gave everyone – cold and intimidating.

Count von Krolock had settled their meeting in the castle’s library, as he always loved to. The library was enormous, holding knowlegde of the whole human kind, but it was ancient and dust covered half of the shelves. The count was eager whenever Lord Afanas asked him about a random book, as if he knew it like the back of his hand, and the lord found that the count slightly narrowing his eyes while taking in the books was a sight to behold. Lord Afanas also learnt that Count von Krolock had a fondness for dark magic, as he observed there were so many papers and hand-written documents about it here – which explained why there were materials such as sand, coal or crow feather displayed on a table nearby. He wondered if the count had ever written them down by himself, and where the man had found such artifacts.

At one point when he gently trailed his fingers on the cover of an almost worn out book, Lord Afanas could hear Count von Krolock speak, voice hush and small, “I haven’t read that book for centuries, and I don’t think I will, either. Still, I’ll keep it.”

“Why? What is it about?” Afanas asked. There were no title printed on the cover, and the old yellow pages were as fragile as fall leaves that he didn’t dare open the thing, for fear he would tear it apart.

“Nothing more than an adventure novel for children. Herbert used to love it when he was a little boy. He would climb on my lap every night, demand me to read the next part of the story... I will pay any price just to receive his tiny hug even just only once more.” Count von Krolock sighed when he took the book and wiped the dusty smudging on the corners, and Lord Afanas could feel his heart soften at the sight.

They settled down by the fireplace for a while, discussing business and art. When Count von Krolock reached out a hand to tuck his hair neatly, Lord Afanas could not help but whispered to himself, “Beauty!”

He was taken aback by his own voice, and it seemed that the count had heard it, too, for he asked, “I beg your pardon?”

“You must be thinking too much, sir, for I said nothing.” The lord gave an awkward shrug, and to his relief, the count didn’t mind about it anymore.

“May you spend your next day here, Sir Afanas? Are there any urgent assignments that need to be done immediately?” The sudden offer made Lord Afanas can not believe in his ears.

“I’m unocuppied at the moment. But wouldn’t that be a bother to you? For you have not rested one bit because of me, you must be exhausted. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“That’s no problem!” Count von Krolock waved off, “It’s you who travelled such a long journey here for me, you must be exhausted as well. Dawn will break soon, but your territory is two days distant from here. I don’t think the villages nearby would be an ideal place for our kind to earn a shelter, especially when that one is an outlander and alone. I believe there’s no need to remind that people keep garlic and hawthorn wood in their houses, yes? Thus, accept my hospitality and stay, would you?”

.

.

The viscount bowed politely when Lord Afanas left the library. The lord, accompanied with a grumpy Koukol, slowly merged into the darkness of the corridor led to the dining hall, and that was when the library door was opened again, this time by Herbert.

“Don’t you join him?” Herbert asked playfully, pressing his back against the wall.

“My thirst is quite satisfied at the moment, my boy.” The count replied, calm as always, as his eyes focused on the books he was arranging on the shelves instead of his son.

A soft hum came from the count when he felt someone slide their arms around his abdomen, then wrap him in a tight embrace.

“Herbert, what are you doing?”

“I’m just letting you know how much I love you.” Herbert’s voice muffled as his face pressed on his father’s shoulders.

“You broke something **again** , didn’t you?” The count asked, didn’t seem to be much surprised. He was too used to Herbert’s pranks and child’s play. To be honest, they enraged him sometimes, but the count thought his life would be empty without Herbert’s cheerful laughs when colourful ribbons hanged across his room or all the horses from his stable left unbridled. Now he expected to witness something like that.

“I did not!” Herbert pouted his lips and huffed, but still never let go of his father. “I only wish to make you happy. Didn’t you say that you want a hug?”

“My sweet boy.” The count laughed and patted Herbert’s head, “You stalked me?”

“Just unintentionally heard.” Herbert wheedled. Then he remained quiet, kept holding his father while the count arranged the books, revising the warm feel of holding onto his father once more. After a while, Herbert decided to speak, “Father?”

“Yes?”

“I think he likes you.” Herbert giggled, and so did the count.

“Save your jokes for another time, Herbert.”

“No, I mean it! I’m not a kid anymore, I know what it’s like to have a crush on somebody!” Herbert exclaimed. “Well... I’m sorry, yes I stalked you. But honestly, I believe that he likes you.”

Count von Krolock went still and he got out of Herbert’s embrace. He turned to faced his son, his face fell, seriously.

“Herbert, you know it’s improper to say anything untrue about anybody. I advise you not to let him hear jokes like this, or there will be bad consequences.”

“But father, just think about it! You can’t miss the evidences!”

“Enough, Herbert. It’s late and I’m really tired. Go back to your room.”

“Father…”

“Another time, Herbert. If you insisted on talking about this, we will discuss at another time, I promise. Now go back to your room.” The count ordered with a sigh.

 


	10. Just You Wait

“Alfred? Ludwig? If you are still playing chess just set it aside. I have something to tell you.”

Herbert stormed inside his bed chamber. He had stopped sulking about his father’s disbelief for quite a while and now his mind had come up with something so tempting that he needed to tell. A plan. Talked about that matter later his father said, but Herbert doubted the count would ever keep his word. “Father was just avoiding the fact.” Herbert muttered under his breath. So he would have to prove to father that he was right. But Herbert knew he could not accomplish his plan alone, therefore Alfred and Ludwig would be good allies.

“Where’s Alfred?” Herbert asked as he noticed there was only Ludwig sitting inelegantly on the chair, one leg dangling idly across the nightstand. The young man grinned with closed eyes at Herbert before leaning back against the plush chair.

“Fell down the rabbit hole. I bet the poor lad won’t come out until he find a bunny with a watch.” He replied flatly.

“Ludwig, come on. Don’t tell me that you bullied Alfred again, that’s improper!” Herbert raised his voice at Ludwig’s cheeky sticking out tongue and went on searching through his bedroom. Strange, Alfred was not in the closet.

 

“I’m down here…”

 

A meek voice came from under the bed. There was no need to ask who the voice belonged to, especially when that bastard on the chair playfully wiggled his brows at Herbert. Herbert knelt, then knocked on a wooden post, telling whoever under the bed to come out.

“If it’s Ludwig knocking, give me a few more moments, if you please. I can’t find the knight pawn anywhere. It’s dark down here, you know. If it’s Herbert or anyone else, please wait, too, I’ll be quick.”

“You knocked over my chess board, so what can I say? I won’t stand it even if one pawn is missing.” Ludwig, still staying in his place, piped in. There were times Herbert just wanted to punch that baring teeth grin of his brother, and this was one of those times. “By the way, that’s your lover knocking.” Ludwig added.

“Alfred, your now vampire eyes can see in the dark.” Herbert lowered his voice.

“I’m not really used to it!” Alfred huffed. “You know that I’m not much older than a newborn vampire. It’s not easy to control these abilities, it’s like there’re light bulbs turning on and off down here.”

Herbert chuckled, “Seems that we have to help you control the night vision, then. I had difficulties with my abilities when I was younger, too, but not with the vision. Maybe I’ll tell father later to solve it out.” Then remembered, he urged, encouraging, “But you need to come out now, mon chéri. Don’t be scared, I’m here, Ludwig won’t bite you to death.” Herbert glared at Ludwig’s pouting face.

“But the pawn…”

“We can find it for our little god later.” Herbert stated, a bit mockingly in his tone. “I have important things to discuss.”

It was only at that moment Alfred decided to crawl outside, his face smudged with soot and dust. As he settled down on the bed with Herbert and wiped cleaned himself, Ludwig at last left his spot and idled his way to sit near them on the floor. He asked, with a sweet voice that made Herbert thought it had given him goosebumps, “What is your matter so important, Herbie?”

Taking a deep breath, Herbert said:

“I believe someone has laid their eyes on father.”

“You mean…?”

“Someone has a crush on father?”

Herbert nodded.

“Understandable.” Ludwig rested his elbow on the bed post, commented, “To be honest, your father is still in his prime, and I believe his prime will last longer than anyone can expect. Besides, he has a talent of speaking, a real gentleman. So it brings me no surprise if there’s any lady falls for him. Unlike me, I doubt I ever have the chance to be with Magda.”

“There’s no lady here. It’s a man.”

Herbert revealed, and to his expectation, both Alfred and Ludwig had their eyes round in something like a mixture of surprise and curiosity. The viscount continued, “This year midnight ball that I went to, it was at the Afanas castle. The lord who hosted that ball… he…”

“He fell for father?”

Herbert chewed on his lips, “I believe so.” Then he went on telling all of his suspicions and all the evidences he had collected enough to get things make senses, about how Lord Afanas wanted to meet his father so much, about the incident at the ball, and so on. He was grateful that Ludwig never showed any despise to his taste in companionship, so the young man would understand it was no bad deal if the one who chose to tumbled with his father was not a woman.

“I’m sorry to be rude, but, what if that man had any bad intention? I mean, we barely know him.” Alfred gently questioned.

“We barely know him, that’s true. But father does, and they’ve been acquaintances for not a short time to my relief.” Herbert shrugged, “We all can count on father. Father wouldn’t get on long with anyone who could harm his family.”

“Herbert, at the beginning it’s me who attempted to murder father and you!” Alfred whined.

“But father has forgiven you! And so do I!” Herbert exclaimed, “We know that you truly are a benevolent person.”

As he assured, Herbert wrapped his arm around Alfred in a slight hug, while Alfred, with no other words, smiled and snuggled close to him. He looked like a small kitten compared to Herbert, it made Herbert felt he was not only a lover to him, but was also like a big protective brother. In a way of saying, Ludwig was his young brother, too, but the young man seemed not to show any need of Herbert’s protection. Ludwig, in fact, was a warrior to himself, hot headed and playful at the same time that he usually annoyed Herbert. For now, Ludwig seemed not to appreciate Herbert’s sweet moment with Alfred, because the young man just rubbed his temples as he sighed:

“For the sake of my poor soul, this will be the last time I tolerate your cheesy actions in front of me, Herbie. If you don’t mind, please get back to our matters at hand. Lord Afanas… is he still here?”

“Yes. Father offered him to say, and he accepted.”

“Did you tell the count, well, about all these things?”

“Of course I did.” Herbert pouted his lips, remembering what had happened before. “Father didn’t believe at all. I know it may sounds weird to him, but… he only thought that I was joking. Why must he, while I was serious and the evidences are clear as the moon like that?”

“Perhaps it was too abrupt for him to believe. Have you in mind anything to do about this lovee-dovee thing?”

“Well…” Herbert hummed, tapping his fingers on his lips as he pretended to be thinking. “You know what I want to do.”

Ludwig rounded his eyes and grumbled, “Don’t tell me that you are going to hook your father up with that lord!”

Herbert grinned so wide that he bared all his fangs and teeth, and he nodded continuously. That was not an answer Ludwig was expecting.

“F-F-Fine…” Ludwig let out a discontented long sigh. “Even if I tried to stop your crazy ideas before they laid eggs you wouldn’t listen anyway. Let’s take a risk this time. I’ll remind myself that keeping your father melancholy till eternity is not a good thing. So, spill the beans, Herbie, what have you got in mind?”

Herbert winked.

“Just you wait.”

 


	11. The Plan

“Herbert! Get over here!”

Ludwig’s roar was deafening, as he quickened his paces towards Herbert. Waited not for the other’s response, he grabbed him by the head, pressing hard his bony knuckles on the viscount’s tempers.

“Ouch! It hurts! Hurt! Let me out! You bastard, what are you doing?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Ludwig gritted his teeth, “Did I warn you not to do anything too stupid? Did I? And look what you’ve done!”

Ludwig wanted to scream straight at Herbert’s face, but restrained himself to only whisper with a harsh voice, and he stared right at Herbert. No matter how much taller Herbert was than Ludwig, the viscount found himself somehow tiny to the young man at this moment, like a little brother being scolded. “I need an explanation. A clear one.” Ludwig demanded.

“Calm down. Let me figure out what I’ve done wrong!” Herbert huffed.

“Fine. Answer my questions, distinctly, and you’ll know, my dear Viscount Herbert von Krolock.” Ludwig withdrew his arms and crossed them in front of his chest. “You told Alfred to lead the lord to his bedroom, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But my eyes said different. Because I saw the little lad lead that man to your father’s room instead. Oh don’t you tell me that Alfred was messing up his directions by mistake, because I know for sure he remembers by heart where each room and quarter locates in this castle!” Ludwig raised his voice.

“Well, I suppose you’re right.” Herbert stammered, awkwardly playing with his hands behind his back.

“You told the little lad to do it, didn’t you?

“Um… yes.” Herbert grinned.

“How wise you can be sometimes, Herbert.” Ludwig palmed his face as he shook his head, a mocking tone in his voice. Gripped tight at Herbert’s collar, Ludwig pulled the viscount closed and tip-toed himself so that the two were both facing each other and so close that their noses almost touched. “Do you know that Alfred ran out of your father’s chamber together with your father’s clothes?”

“So?” Herbert pretended to be naïve.

“So? How could you…” Ludwig lost tracks of words. “Your father, he’s… He’s taking a bath!” The young man let go of Herbert by that, his hands waving as he spoke. 

“How do you know that father is taking a bath? And what does he taking a bath have anything to do here?”

“I heard the water being poured, silly, and I thought you must have known well your father’s routine!” Actually, Ludwig believed Herbert never forgot that habit of bathing before bedtime of his father, the viscount was just making excuses. “I do not stop you from doing whatever you like about this whole lovee-dovee thing, but that doesn’t mean you can push your plan to a new level of stupidity! What’s going to happen to your father? Tell me. If that man is still in your father’s chamber – which is attached to the bathroom, and you guys took all his clothes like that, what will happen? Tell me!”

_._

_._

_Earlier…_

“This is your room, your Highness. Feel like home and rest.”

“Thank you so much, my boy.” Lord Afanas gently said as Alfred quickly prepared the bed. “Such a clever young man, you’ve worked hard. What’s your name?”

“It’s Alfred.”

“What a beautiful name you have.”

Alfred smiled at the compliment and happily went to help Lord Afanas unpack his things as well as take off his coat. Usually, it would be Koukol doing this, but the old butler needed to rest, too, so Alfred would not mind lending a hand at all. While Alfred was arranging the clothes in the closet and put the two briefcases neatly in place, the lord took his time observing the room – he was not sleepy yet, and would love to take in the count’s taste of art. Gothic, of course. Victorian, obviously, and pretty much darker than his.

Lord Afanas turned to look down at Alfred when the young man slightly tugged at his sleeves. Alfred seemed too nervous, as if he was frightened of something, of someone. “My dear boy, whatever is the matter?”

“I’m sorry. I know I should not bother you, but…” Alfred darted his eyes around the chamber, looking for whatever the other man couldn’t understand before shaking his head. “No, it’s nothing… I guess…”

“Tell me, I’m listening.” Lord Afanas gently assured as he placed a hand on Alfred’s shoulder, gave it a firm grip. It made Alfred flinch. “I can see your face is even paler than death, and your eyes, they’re showing obvious panic. There must be something troubles you. Are you hurt? Did I scare you?”

“No!” Alfred blurted out, “You don’t frighten me. And I’m not hurt at all. It’s just… I’ve lost something.”

“Oh poor boy.” Afanas chuckled, “I believe it must be very important to you. What is it?”

“Have you seen a necklace, Highness?” Alfred’s voice sounded hopeless.

“I’ve never seen one. What does it look like?”

“It’s an old necklace, silver-coloured. With a locket attached to it. I never know what’s in that locket, though.” Alfred shrugged. “The necklace isn’t mine. It’s… It belongs to Count von Krolock. He treasured it very much. I was curious, I only wanted to have a look at it. And I just lost it!” Alfred’s voice broke as he said, which softened the man in front of him. “One minute it was still on the nightstand, one minute later it’s gone! But I can’t remember where I dropped it! I couldn’t find it anywhere! The count would be mad at me!”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think Krolock would ever…”

“He would be mad at me, for touching things that’s not mine, like a thief. He would toss me out…” Alfred bit his fingernails as he seemed to lost control. He was not crying, but his trembling voice and widened eyes said he wanted to, and he went on mumbling to himself. “I was not born here. I have nowhere to go. The sun will burn me. I don’t want to perish!”

“Now, now, calm down, my boy. No getting yourself worked up.” Lord Afanas took hold of Alfred’s shoulder and soothed him, one hand came to pat Alfred’s cheek. “Everything will be alright. I will help you find it.”

“Really?” Alfred beamed, but soon his shoulders slumped. “Thank you, but I don’t think it’s proper to bother you…”

“No, no!” The lord cut off, “It’s no big deal. You’re a very good young man, I like you already. I will help you find the necklace.”

The necklace was laying under the bed when Lord Afanas found it. Crawling under the bed when you were a giant was not easy, but the man finally made it. The necklace had been stained with rust as well as the locket, but the surface was still smooth enough. Count von Krolock must have taken care of it carefully. Lord Afanas wondered what the locket was protecting just like Alfred, but though he could open it right there to have a glance, he decided it would be the best not to intrude other people’s privacy.   

“Alfred, where have you been? Look, I found the necklace!”

Lord Afanas smiled as he saw Alfred returned from the attached room, the young man must have exhausted himself looking for the thing there. No need to worry anymore, Alfred’s face lit up like a child who got presents. He bowed to thank the older vampire, and secretly happy that the first part of Herbert’s plan had been successful.

“Alfred, could you do me a favour?” Lord Afanas suddenly asked.

“Willingly. I’ll try my best.”

“Let me hand this necklace to Count von Krolock all by myself, would you?”

The order almost made Alfred jump, and he choked back a gasp. As if he could read minds, Lord Afanas assured gently, “I will tell him that the necklace was dropped somewhere by accident and you were the one who found it.”

“Thank you, Your Highness!” Alfred couldn’t help his wide smile and he bowed again.

“No problem. Stand straight up, my boy. It’s a pleasure to know you. Are you going to do the laundry?” Lord Afanas raised a curious eyebrow as he pointed to the pile of clothes in Alfred’s arms.

“Sort of. I’ll take it to the servants to wash. If you don’t mind, please excuse me.”

So saying, Alfred rushed out of the chamber.

 


	12. Responsibility

Count von Krolock almost drifted off in the bathtub. The warm water and the nice smell of lavender soap – a gift from Herbert – chased all the tiredness away, made him feel refreshed, and he closed his eyes relaxing himself, enjoying the time on his own. When he found his clothes disappeared from where he had put them on a chair nearby, the count thought, “Must be Herbert’s prank again. What a naughty boy, never wants to grow up.” By that, he grabbed a big towel to wrap around his waist, since he didn’t have the habit of using bathrobe, and headed back to his chamber, knowing nothing about the presence of the other man.

A small gasp caught Lord Afanas’ attention, made him stopped counting stars on the purple sky to spin around, just to face a sight that he perhaps wouldn’t be able to forget in at least a century to come. Count von Krolock was standing there, frozen, his damp hair dripped and flowed down his shoulder. He was half-naked, and Afanas found himself can not help staring at those water drops trailing down the bare flesh so inviting.   

“Excuse me… What are you doing here?” This time, it was Krolock who lost tracks of words. If he was embarrassed, he was trying to hide it.

“What… I… I was told this is my room.” Afanas struggled to spill out his words as well, feeling his tongue hard inside his mouth.

“This is not the guest quarter. There must be some mistakes.” Count von Krolock forced a smile, palms reached up to cover the puzzling look on his face. “I apology for this unexpected indecency. It’s… it’s such a shame.”

Count von Krolock barely finished his sentence, Lord Afanas had nodded and dashed out of the room, didn’t mean to slam the door that hard. He lean against the door, gasping heavily. Everything was too much and he thought his vision had seen blurry stars dancing. His face felt hot, though his skin was still cold as ice, the unsettling, nervous feeling of butterflies flying inside his stomach rose again like a whirlwind. Afanas even doubted he did not blush – were he able to blush anymore.

The door was yanked opened behind Lord Afanas moments later. Probably Count von Krolock was quite violent with it, the count himself nearly flew out and crash into the other man. As if he was afraid Lord Afanas had been angry and gone away. The count didn’t fully dress up, still he was neat enough, only his hair was left unbrushed. Upon seeing the lord, Count von Krolock breathed a sigh of relief. 

“What happened is all my fault.” Count von Krolock sternly stated, then his head slightly bowed. “To make you witness a scene like that, it’s…”

“It’s no big deal, really.”

“I’ve sullied your honour and the respect you deserve, sir! And that is unacceptable. I’m sorry you had to experience it.”

Everything grew suffocated. Lord Afanas, though a bit faltered, reached out to touch the count’s arm, to show that he was understanding enough not to be upset about the incident. But Count von Krolock only looked up at him, confused. He squared his shoulders and tensed, and Afanas knew his action was not quite suitable to reveal his answer. So he withdrew, and said briefly, “I understand.”

“Please forgive me.”

It was awkward for them both, and Lord Afanas didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to say the word “forgive”, because he didn’t want the count to feel guilty. It was not Krolock’s fault, after all, Afanas believed it. He wanted the count to be friendly to him again, at least look at him in the eyes, not… solemn, gloomy like this. Should he take the blame to himself? That would be logical, it was him who got to the wrong room anyway. So Lord Afanas declared, his voice lowered:

“I can’t. You did nothing, so it’ll be so absurd if I blame you.” He hesitated for the briefest of moments. “It was me who went to the wrong place at the beginning. I am the one to be at fault. Let me take the responsibility for what I did and what I saw.”

Range of unexplainable emotions washed through the count’s face as he couldn’t hide his perplexity. “Pardon? Oh you must be thinking too much, sir. You are my guest. It’s me who must be responsible.”

“But it’s not your fault.”

“You can’t change my mind.”

“Krolock…”

“I will do anything to make up for my mistake.”

A pregnant pause occurred. Lord Afanas surrendered, “Are you sure?”

“Certainly.” Holding his head up, Count von Krolock stated.

“If you insist…” Lord Afanas sighed. He cast the count an expectant look, yet feeling a wave of guilt eating up his guts for deciding to take advantage over him. But a chance like this only came once in a blue moon, so he made up his mind and chose to take a risk. He had to tell, however bad the results would become he still had to express his feelings, for he couldn’t know if the count would ever see him again after this incident. He approached closer to Count von Krolock. Seizing the count’s hand, Lord Afanas whispered, “My man…”

“Pardon me…?”

“Accept me, please?” Lord Afanas asked, the corners of his lips curled up into a gentle smile.

“Sir, what are you saying?”

“Accept me, please?” Lord Afanas was patient.

“This… I…” Count von Krolock mumbled, dumbfounded. In a moment he felt it was too much for him to believe, and he fell grave silent. Lord Afanas was still waiting, though, and he never released the count’s hand, but even gently squeezed it. Count von Krolock narrowed his eyes like a cat, “You are joking me, aren’t you?”

“I know I’m saying this so abruptly. But I confess, I’ve fallen for you for a long time. I…” He paused before speaking again, admiring Krolock’s blue eyes like always, voice still soft, “I like you a lot.”

Count von Krolock stared at the man in front of him with wide eyes, his irises shrank into two tiny dots. No words were spoken, the silence was deafening. After a while, a heavy breath was heaved, and the count’s face was dreadfully sad, mingled with something like compassion.

“I am so sorry.”

“Is it because I’m a man?” Lord Afanas held back a sigh, his voice now was even smaller.

“That’s never a problem.” Count von Krolock shook his head, “But I’m so sorry. I can’t make up for my fault by this way. Please tell me what to do to fix my mistake, anything, anything but this.”

“Then you have to do nothing. It’s only a small accident.”

“Have you insisted, once again, please forgive me.” Count von Krolock’s voice grew cold at once, “Although I dearly appreciate your companion, I can not fulfill your desire.”

Lord Afanas’ heart sunk. Trying to hide the sadness and disappointment in his voice, he asked, “I understand. But would you think about it again? For me? I’ll always be waiting for you.” He knew he sounded so pathetic, begging like this, but he could not stop himself. His feelings were just slipping out of his lips and poured freely like a dam just got broken. Perhaps it did melt Krolock a bit, as the man nodded:

“I will, if I need to.”

“Promise me, whether you accept my love or not, from now on until the last decision, think for me. Please?”

“I promise.”

 


	13. The Journey

“Can you please stop walking around? You’re making me feel restless!”

Ludwig grumbled, but Herbert seemed not to care at all. He was anxious, his vampire ears perked up to listen to all the sounds echoed in the castle, and then he groaned again. There were only the clopping sound of his own boots, the tickling of the clocks, and the drip-dropping from a nearby  old water tap – Koukol should take care of it soon, all of which Herbert was not hoping to hear. He was waiting for his father. It had been five nights since he set that stupid plan, but his father hadn’t breathed even one single word to him.

“Father must have known I am behind this whole mess. He must be crossed at me till forever!” Herbert whined, at last had decided to settled down on his bed. With another long, dramatic groan, he lay pressing his face on the mattress, hands grabbed a pillow to cover his head and moaned, “It’s all my fault. I’m an idiot!”

“There, there, you can keep crying if it makes you feel better.” Alfred sat beside Herbert and rubbed his back. Herbert snapped over his shoulder:

“I’m not crying!” He pouted for a few second, “Crying is for kids. And I’m not a kid.” He mumbled, “But I’ve done something more idiotic than a kid’s prank… The worst thing has happened. Father’s honour is lost. What should I do?”

“It’s no use crying over spilled milk.” Ludwig said, “Besides, yes you’re not a baby, so stop wailing. And as I’ve been attempting to tell you, you’d better meet him and say a proper apology.”

“I tried that! Of course I tried!” Herbert protested, “I went to find him. I wrote notes for him. But father didn’t even bother to cast me a glance whenever he noticed me. As if I was invisible! He will not ever forgive me. He’s been quiet the whole week.”

“If father could forgive me for attempting to murder him, then I believe he would not keep this case in his mind for long.” Alfred gently piped in. Ludwig nodded in agreement, and gave the young man an approving look.

There came door knocks. Not Koukol knocking, because the knocks were gentle. Knowing who that was, Herbert bolted right up, brushed his hair and clothes neatly again before hurried to opened the door.

“Hello… father.” He meekly said, not daring to look at the count with a straight face. Still, he could feel his father was eyeing him judgingly, gaze cold as ice. Swallowing hard, Herbert mumbled, “I was about to look for you, too.”

“Where’re the other boys?” Count von Krolock asked, an indifferent tone in his voice. He paid no care to Herbert’s whimpers.

“They’re all in my room.”

Herbert quickly said, and glanced up at his father. The count raised an eyebrow at him, and it was a snap to Herbert that he had to let his father enter the room. The young viscount himself only dared to stand alone at a corner.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation. But I’m going on a trip for some times.” Count von Krolock informed. “I need one of you to go with me. As an assistant.”

An awkward silence occurred before Herbert immediately seized his chance, “I can do it.”

“You sound so confident.” The count commented.

“I can do paperwork’s, I can be a translator, and I can communicate with others, too.” Herbert beamed, “I’m clever!”

For days and nights, now this was the first time Count von Krolock looked at his son, their eyes aligned. But the cold from his father’s glare only sent shivers down Herbert’s spine, and the young man’s heart leapt to his throat.

“Clever you say?” The count sternly reminded. It made Herbert red to the ears and he could only whimper back like a small kitten meowing. The count’s gaze left Herbert, and he turned to his other fledglings.

“Alfred, you will come with me.”

“Huh… Me?” Alfred was wide-eyed.

“Is there anyone else here named Alfred?” The count asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean… Why me… I…” Alfred babbled, but soon as he found his question was not very smart to ask, he stopped himself. “Yes, father. I will accompany with you.”

“Good. Get some rest and pack your things. We are departing tomorrow night.”

Herbert dearly wanted to protest his father’s decision, but at his grimly grave face and the sigh of disappointment he heaved when he walked past Herbert, Herbert thought silence and accepting the truth would be the best choice.

.

.

Alfred didn’t know anything about this journey he went, except that they were heading to the city of Bremen, Germany. Maybe the count would tell him more during the trip, he thought. He was excited, for Germany was his mother land. Though he was never sure about where exactly he was born – he was abandoned, lost in the middle of Königsberg when Professor Abronsius found him – Alfred had spent his whole childhood travel across the country with professor, so to him every piece of land on Germany could be called home just like the mountain ranges of Transylvania. And it was so great to visit one’s home again after such a long time.

But then, Alfred remembered what happened to Count von Krolock a few nights ago. Alfred had helped Herbert with the plan, so he was the one at fault, too, wasn’t he? What if the count was mad at him as well, and decided to send him back to where he came from? If so, he would be dead as a doornail! Alfred’s stomach churned at the thoughts. Imagined himself left alone somewhere far from the Krolock castle, no family, no friends, no shelter, then burned to ash by the deadly sunlight made Alfred shiver. He clutched tighter to the briefcase he held and sank deeper into the carriage seat. He didn’t want to “die” any one more time!

“You are really tensed, Alfred. Whatever is the matter?”

Count von Krolock’s voice was calm, somehow eased off the tension burdening Alfred. Seeing Alfred’s nervous look, the count understood everything, and he shifted himself to prompt Alfred to come sit next to him in the carriage.

“You are worrying that I may punish you, because I have known all about the bathroom incident, aren’t you?”

Alfred nodded. Laughing softly, the count put a strong arm over Alfred’s shoulder and held him tight against his side, gently rubbing Alfred’s arm up and down. “Don’t worry, my son. I don’t blame you.”

“You are not going to throw me out on the way?”

“Of course not!” Count von Krolock crooned.

“That’s nice, I suppose… Um, father… Do you forgive Herbert?” Alfred whispered, as if he feared mentioning the viscount may fuel the count’s anger. “Herbert has been tormented himself. On behalf of him, I apology. We have learnt our lesson.”

“Herbert?” The count hummed in his throat. He seemed to be amused when he continued, “He’s been forgiven. But do not let him know. I want him to think more about what he did.”

Alfred softly whispered a small “Oh” before shifting himself properly on the seat. The journey was quiet since then. He remembered sitting in the carriage till break-dawn, then his eyelids were so heavy that he had fallen asleep, head leaned on his father’s shoulder. When he opened his eyes, they had reached the railway station.

.

.

“Goodness, Herbert, what are you doing?”

“Am I not making myself obvious enough?” Herbert said over his shoulders as he packed his belongings, trying not to ruin his favourite shirts inside the suitcases. “I’m going with father. Whether he wants it or not I’m going to meet him. He… I can’t let myself be abandoned like that. Please take care of the family for me while I’m gone, dear Ludwig, and care for yourself, too.”

“You can count on me. But are you sure it’s a good idea to follow him?” Ludwig asked as he helped Herbert straighten his coat.

“I don’t know.” Herbert shrugged, “But I have to try. To show him how sincere I am. Koukol has informed me about his destination. I have to set off as soon as possible.” He spun around to hug goodbye Ludwig. “How do I look?”

“Great.” Ludwig snorted with a laugh.

“Great!” Herbert grinned, “Alfred would be stunned to see me just like father.”

So saying, Herbert hurried out the Krolock castle, leaving his brother behind with a roll of his eyes.

.

.

The time travelling from Romania to Germany seemed to prolong till eternity. The train bumped non-stop on the winter railroad with the noisy sound of machine, giving anyone headaches and a pain on the back. When the train reached the station by late evening, Alfred was so numb that he thought if anyone touched him, he would fall right on the floor without any mercy. 

The local hotel was bustling with people. Alfred had to dodged his small frame through the thick crowds to race after the count, trying his best not to get lost or brush too hard against anyone. He didn’t want to be considered rude. When he finally reached the protocol department, the count had already got a key, but unfortunately, he greeted him with a look not so amused:

“Alfred, my dear boy, I would like to book a room for you alone so you could enjoy your privacy.” The count sounded sorry, “But since this building has been fully occupied, there’s only one single room left for us.”

“A single room? Well I guess we’re lucky enough to get a room.” Alfred scratched his head. He understood. The count needed to keep his appointment tomorrow night, so finding another hotel which was still vacant right now would be impossible. Having money was no use. The receptionist even said there were plenty of newly wed couples booking at this time of year, so it would be very, very wrong and absurd to use money just to kick them out of a room and ruin their holidays.

“I won’t mind at all!” Alfred smiled, “It’s nice to be with you, though. I feel safe.” He then muttered at his feet. “Don’t you worry, I won’t be a bother, I will be quiet as a mouse if you need me to. Oh, and the bed! You may use the whole big bed if you want, I can sleep on the floor.”

“Alfred, what on Earth are you saying? How could you come up with the idea that I will allow you to sleep on the floor?” Count von Krolock looked confused and he frowned, “And is that a pout on your face? I guess Herbert has been a bad influence on you.”

“What? No, father, I didn’t mean that!” Alfred yelped, “And I’m not pouting. I just want to show you that I’m more than happy to share a room.” 

“The young man may have his own room. You can share one with me.”

Lord Afanas appeared from nowhere nearly made Count von Krolock jump away, though his face never showed the startling expression. The lord crinkled his eyes and smiled the most innocent smile.

“I received a double room last night by mistake. Would be less awkward for us if it was a twin one instead, hmm?” He chuckled, “But no matter what there’s only me. It’s lonely.”

“Many thanks to your offer, sir, but we are doing fine.” Count von Krolock replied sharply. He didn’t know why, but Lord Afanas was making him nervous. After all had happened, he didn’t expect to see the man again at a place distant from home like this. What an uncomfortable coincidence.

“But I believe Alfred would be over the moon if he could have his own space.” Lord Afanas placed a finger against Alfred’s lips as the young man tended to protest, and Alfred remained silent. He didn’t want to talk back and make other people angry, especially when they are bigger than him. Afanas was still at Krolock:

“I can give you the bed and sleep on the floor.” He grinned, and Alfred also could not help his giggles.

“Stop it.” Krolock hung his head, averted his eyes. Still stubborn, Lord Afanas convinced:

“My bed is twice as big as yours. You’ll be comfortable! You need to rest well after such a long trip.” He laughed softly.

Afanas’ words, in fact, did move Krolock a bit. Count von Krolock, he was tired, and really needed a good sleep. He wished to give Alfred what he wanted, but imagined himself on the bed with Afanas… Were he a human, Krolock would have been blushed like a shy teenager, even though there were no naughty scenes drawn in his mind.

Lord Afanas went on:

“Believe it or not, we both are attending a meeting tomorrow night.” His tone turned serious as he showed an invitation letter. The inviter, the time and place matched the ones on Count von Krolock’s letter perfectly. “We can discuss our work together, since I have questions already. Much better than working on your own, don’t you think? Is it enough to change your mind?”

“I’m able to manage myself.”

“I thought we were friends.” Now it was Lord Afanas who pouted. He sweetly purred, which sent chills under Krolock’s skin, and… are those puppy eyes on Alfred’s face? “Please?” 

Never in his “unlife”, Count von Krolock found himself so soft-hearted, and he accepted the offer.

 


	14. Room No.50

_The city of Bremen._

“Room no. 50… Room no.50…”

Herbert muttered to himself as he glanced at the room numbers hung on the walls, with a hope he could soon find his place to retire for the day. Light would invade the whole building in no long time, so he had to hurry. “Where is that damn room?” Although nobody would ever described him as a hot-headed, Herbert began to lose his temper. He was exhausted after a long trip, he even spent all night searching for his father right as he set foot on Bremen. But the count was nowhere in his sight, and Herbert could not sense his father, either. The count must have been so crossed that he blocked his mind, he assumed. Herbert’s legs were weary, his hair looked terrible, yet he couldn’t see where his room was. It was irritating!

A sigh of relief escaped Herbert’s lips as the number he was looking for at last had appeared at halfway a corridor. “Wait… I walked past this way, why didn’t I see it earlier?” Herbert pondered, tapping on his lips as he observed carefully. But he soon assumed that he was careless and could have missed it, so he shrugged it off.

Herbert was surprised when all the curtains in the room had been pulled down and the windows were locked, even the smallest sun ray could not make its way inside. But it was a relief as well.  When Herbert closed the door behind him, the room was engulfed in total darkness, the only light source was a strange green flame from a tiny candle placed on the table. Caring not to all the strange things he witnessed, Herbert rubbed his tiring eyes and threw his suitcases mercilessly on the bed.

“Who’s that?”

The sudden shout made Herbert jump out of his skin, and he readied his fists in self-protection. What another nonsense was it? Herbert’s face twisted. Clearly he had booked a single room! How came a stranger stay here? Herbert could have not gone into the wrong room, either, he got the key of room no. 50!

Herbert didn’t notice the candle flame had spread its light and lit up the entire room. On the bed where the suitcases had just landed, sat a man. He was clutching at his head and winced, hair as messy as a crow nest. Probably the suitcases had fallen hard on him. The man, however, didn’t look like a human being. Herbert tilted his head in curious. The stranger was lanky, way too much slimmer than a healthy person, and his limbs were extraordinarily long. He had pointy ears, the tan skin of red cooper colour, and his eyes were like purple wild fireballs that sparked. He groped his way onto the nightstand to grab his glasses, and oh, what Herbert saw… Even the glasses were not normal, one of the lens was badly broken, and the other was missing. A completely useless pair of glasses!

“Entschuldigung.” Herbert cleared his throat, attempting to draw attention from the stranger. The viscount had let loose his fists, yet still cautious of the other man. “I’m sorry that I didn’t know you were there. Are you alright?”

“Fit as a fiddle.” The stranger groaned, ruffled his hair. “What are you doing here? How could you come in?”

What foolish questions to ask, Herbert was not impressed. “I’m here because this is my room. I could come in because I have the key.” He replied flatly.

“Your room?” The stranger rolled his eyes, “What are you, then?”

The stranger looked up. His eyes widened at Herbert, which made the viscount’s hair stand on end, and the man pondered for a while. After just a blink of an eye, Herbert had seen the stranger facing him, at a distant so close that he could see the small sharp fangs baring at him in a friendly grin. No, not fangs. Razor blade teeth, and the man got several of them. With his face beamed up so quickly, the stranger briskly greeted and pushed Herbert down an armchair, so inhumanly fast that Herbert couldn’t have the chance to react.

“Oh good morning, Viscount Herbert von Krolock, my precious pearl!” The stranger giggled, “I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Herbert, still perplexed, asked, “How do you know my name? And who are you?”

“Who doesn’t know the young viscount of the Krolocks in Transylvania!” The stranger exclaimed excitedly, “What an honour to meet you today!” He laughed out of full content, as if he was a close friend of Herbert who just got reunited after ages of distance. “And my name? Well, let’s call it… Koroviev.” As he said, he offered his hand to shake with Herbert’s.

“Well, I guess that’s fine. Good morning, sir… Koroviev.” Herbert gave a reluctant smile and returned the hand-shake. “So, if you don’t mind, why are you here in this room? Because it’s clear as the moon I booked it.” Herbert showed his rusty key made of iron with a number 50 carved on it as an evidence.

“But I booked this room first!” Koroviev grinned, but Herbert only found it give him goosebumps, and Koroviev handed out a key which was exactly alike Herbert’s.

Herbert had gone to complain about his issues. But what he received didn’t help one bit, the manager determined that she only have one room with number 50 as well as one key only to go with it, the same with other rooms. She also confirmed that before Herbert arrived room no. 50 was still vacant, and there was no customer named Koroviev. Even the guests around also said they stayed downstairs the whole day and night and never saw anyone match Herbert’s description about Koroviev. When they had the room checked, they were all certain that there was nobody inside it, and all the gazes focused on Herbert as if he had been hallucinating the whole thing.

Frustrated and had a hunch that something horribly wrong was happening, Herbert quickened his paces back to the room, reminded himself that he would try to stay safe and rest for the day and immediately leave right as the sun set, going far away from that eccentric shady stranger.

Koroviev was there when Herbert returned. He was standing with his back turned to Herbert, eyes looked outside the window now was opened. The curtains had been drawn up as well, and the sunlight took its chance to pour freely inside, forced Herbert to quickly nestle to a corner and secured himself with his hooded cloak.

“I know who you are, Viscount von Krolock.”

“What does it have to do anything with you?” Herbert grimaced and snarled. Even though Koroviev’s voice was surprisingly calm, Herbert could sense the ultimate threat in it, and he bared his fangs.

“You are not human.” Koroviev laughed, “You are hiding from the light.”

“Who are you?”

“You can step outside. There’s nothing to do in that corner.” Koroviev, avoiding the question, replied.

“Pull the curtains down.” Herbert ordered. The winter was cold, but the daylight was still warm enough to make Herbert’s skin burn. It hurt.

“We are both alike. You don’t have to fear.”

“Pull the curtains down!”

“I can be sure that you’ll be fine.” Koroviev promised.

“As if I would believe your tongue!” Herbert choked out his words under the hood.

Although the shawl was covering all of his face, the day was still so bright that Herbert had to squeeze his eyes close, and in the briefest of moments he didn’t hear anything or realize the other man approaching. Panic and fear hammered in his chest as Herbert felt his shoulders being gripped firmly, while himself being dragged to the middle of the room by an unearthly strength. It was all of a sudden that he could not protest, his hood was yanked off and Herbert’s face now was facing the sun directly. Herbert thought he could feel Death stand by his side.     

“See?” Koroviev threw his body down to sit on the bed, legs crossed, and he burst into giddy laughter. “Nothing happened.”

For a while, Herbert’s words were stuck in his throat and he knew nothing to say. He was frozen with shock at the center of the room, seeing the light, feeling the light dance on every inch of his pale skin, a lively warmth that he had forgotten for so long tingled every bit of his muscle. Herbert slowly touched his face. There was no burning, it didn’t hurt at all, and he wide-eyed at what was happening to him.

“Cats got your tongue?” Koroviev smirked, “Oh my dear Viscount von Krolock, I didn’t lie to you, did I? The sun won’t burn you to ash or leave you the smallest scar, at least at this moment.”

It took a few more minutes for Herbert to manage to speak:

“Who are you?”

“It’s so rude of me not to introduce myself earlier.” Koroviev finally composed himself, “I came from a world of the undead, just like you. A demon is what one may call me, a trusted servant from the retinue escorting Woland, God of the Devil.” So saying, Koroviev’s simple checked-patterned suit, in front of Herbert’s astonished eyes, transformed into a more elegant suit with black shirt and dark purple vest. Even his eyes changed, too. The white parts darkened and turned into two pitch black hollows, leaving only the purple orbs glinted like a pair of blazing stars. Only the glasses were still the same, with one lens broken, and the other gone missing.

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing!” Koroviev grinned again, “As I said, coming across you is unexpected. Messir gave me… well, let’s say it’s some days off, so I came here for a visit.”

“How could people not discover you? Because if it weren’t me, then somebody might have stepped into this room.” Herbert frowned.

“Magic! Fantastic, right?” Koroviev exclaimed and clapped his hands, “A little bit hypnotism magic from the tip of my fingers and all the new customers will think room no. 50 has been occupied, so nobody will ever book it! But my power is not unlimited. Perhaps because you are… not a human, and I didn’t prepare well enough, so you wasn’t completely tricked like them.”

“You seemed to know much about me, then?” Herbert asked, still beware of Koroviev.

“Oh, we know many things. Everything, everyone. The past, the present, the future.” Koroviev waved his hand. “But that’s merely our jobs. All that happens on this world has been decided by destiny and the Almighty Lords. We, in fact, never mean to harm anyone… unless we feel like playing some pranks.” He chuckled, taking in pleasure at Herbert’s jaw drop, “Or unless they deserve it.”

“You just pushed me to the daylight.” Herbert mocked.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I just wanted to prove to you that you can put your trust on me.” Koroviev pouted, his voice drawled in a dramatically pathetic way.

Herbert wondered whether he should believe the words from this demon stranger. The way he spoke, Herbert couldn’t know why, was very convincing. Maybe he was still using that hypnotism trick. But maybe, he was honest. If he was up to something nasty, then at the beginning he wouldn’t have referred himself as a demon, because who would ever believe the devil’s words? Besides, he claimed himself to be Woland’s man. That ancient Woland, nobody could deny his power, but he had such an unpredictable character that who could ever foretell what was in his mind! So it wouldn’t be wise to mess with him. Therefore maybe Koroviev was not joking. Herbert didn’t want to upset him, either, it was broad daylight, so he was obviously the underdog. Trusting and being amicable would be much cleverer.

Koroviev suddenly asked, cut off Herbert’s thoughts, “You travelled from Transylvania to this Bremen to follow your father, am I right, dear viscount?” He stuck out his tongue playfully, which made his face even more caddish.

“That’s none of your business.”

“But I can help you, if you like.” Koroviev gave a laugh which was more than affable. If he was trying to tease Herbert about his fault, then he had succeeded, for Herbert’s ears almost turned red. Beckoning Herbert to approach closer, Koroviev winked, “I know where to find him.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There're some little crossover characters from this chapter. Let's see if you can say who they are ;)


	15. The Clothes Shop

“Where are we going?”

Alfred asked, giggling as a puppy ran by waved its tail at him. It was so cute and fluffy, he always wished he could have one back at the castle. Herbert and Ludwig tried to help once, but instead they only brought some wild cubs home which turned out to be wolves, and the result was pretty disastrous. But for now Alfred didn’t have time to think much about puppies. He had to race ahead, or he would lost track of the count.

“You are not answering me.” Alfred gently tugged at the count’s sleeves.

“I’m buying you new clothes.”

“You don’t like what I’m wearing?” Alfred blew out his cheeks like a pouting child. 

“I never says that. But you’ve worn these old clothes for years. Look.” Count von Krolock pointed at Alfred’s shoulders and back. The coat didn’t seem so poor, but there had been patches discoloured, and the threads were horrid. “It’s worn out. Look at your knees, too. Sometimes I wondered whether Herbert and Ludwig taught you how to ride a horse or to fight with one. I can’t let you go out slovenly like this. It’s going to be New Year soon, after all.” He paused for a few seconds. “Herbert would be a better partner to choose outfits, but I want to walk with you sometimes.”

“Oh. Thank you…” Alfred mumbled, “Then what about Sarah? And Herbert? Ludwig? Koukol would be happy to have a gift, too. He’s worked so hard.”

“A kind hearted boy as always.” The count praised, patting Alfred’s head. Alfred was short, so he felt so like a little schoolboy, and he melted. Count von Krolock hummed, “Yes, I told Magda to take Sarah to the tailor to make them both new dresses. About Herbert, of course he will have his present. I’m thinking of buying him a new pair of gloves, since he kept complaining about the holes on his old one. Ludwig asked me for a bow some time before so he could practice with his arrows. I’ll work on that later. What do you think Koukol would love?”

“A scarf, I suppose? I see the one he’s wearing has been tattered. Probably my fault because I brought the baby wolves near him.” Alfred muttered at his feet as they walked. The count laughed softly and gave Alfred an approving look. He was always a generous man, so the whole family will soon have presents. Alfred bloated with bliss.

They stopped at a small store. Not too small for a clothes shop, but it was not as big as many other ones Alfred noticed. Alfred didn’t know why Count von Krolock chose this store instead of those luxury ones – which would be more logical for a man like him, but this store had the lights so warm and nice and it had those snow flower pots hung on the front wall that made him feel so comfortable. His thoughts simply slipped away.

Hundreds of pieces of cloth heaped up the shelves, cleverly-made outfits of all kind were uncountable, and that sewing machine had a strange design with yet so fascinating to look at.

A lady in splendid dark gown greeted them both with a graceful smile. The count and Alfred bowed politely at her and the count elegantly placed a kiss on the back of her hand.

“Welcome, my respectable and honourable customers! I am at your service!” She was a bit over-dramatic, giggling behind the fan that she used to hide her face except for her eyes. “We have many styles of clothes for you to choose, all with the best materials, and I’m a tailor myself. How can I help you?”

Alfred happily let the lady take his sizes while the count took a look at the cloths. The lady shared with him some small talks while she worked, but Alfred didn’t put his mind on them when he spotted a way lead to a dark compartment. His vampire eyes helped Alfred see clearly through the darkness, and he could see a figure hiding behind some shelves, and most importantly, the figure was staring at him. Alfred’s stomach churned in nervous.

“Would you like to come inside and have a look, young man? There’re more samples there.” The lady gave Alfred a small lantern as she gestured him to the dark room. Her eyes lit up under a weird pair of broken glasses, which sent shivers down Alfred’s spine. “What a strange lady.” Alfred thought to himself when she had left.

“Alfred… Alfred! Over here!”

A whisper called Alfred to turn to his left, and the young man had no difficulty recognize the familiar person with bright blond hair smiling at him.

“Herbert? What are you doing here?” Alfred whispered back.

“Surprised to see me, mon chéri?” Herbert’s smile broadened into a blissful gin. He spread his arms and offered Alfred a tight embrace. “Oh I miss you.”

“It’s been only a few nights.” Alfred crinkled his eyes as Herbert ruffled his hair like what a big brother would do to tease his baby sibling.  Were he still a human, Alfred would have flushed. “But that’s not the reason why you come here, right?”

“Well, I want to follow father. He must be still crossed at me, and I can’t take it.” Herbert sighed, “What? What are you laughing at? I’m serious!”

“Herbert,” Alfred shook his head, “father has forgiven you.”

“Ja… wait, what?”

Herbert was beyond the moon and he nearly jumped in happiness among the wooden shelves, and he was so excited that Alfred had to place a finger against his lips or he would kept squeaking those strange noises.

“But father doesn’t want you to know that, so please calm down, Herbert.” Alfred hushed. “I don’t know what father would do if he found you here.”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet!” Herbert muffled his giggles and brought Alfred’s palm to his face to kiss it. “That’s so relieved to hear. I truly didn’t waste my time at all!” He squealed, “And oh goodness I miss you. What are you two doing in this city?”

Alfred’s face abruptly fell grave, and it troubled Herbert. “A terrible thing happened.” Alfred started, Herbert hanging on his every word. “A lord has been mysteriously murdered recently. It was an untimely and horrible death. Vampire, staked in the heart.” The young man shuddered as he described, “They are investigating the case.”

“And father is one of the investigators?”

“I thought so, but it turned out not. He has other business.” Alfred explained, “The lord didn’t leave any will, and some of his fledglings are demanding their inheritance rights fulfilled. So they need the most honest witnesses to make sure that the division of wealth occur fairly. I help father check the information. The most boring paperwork.”

“But you seem so proud of father! And you’re doing a great job!” Herbert praised, and it brightened Alfred’s face up. Happened to remember, Alfred went on telling Herbert about their unexpected meeting with Lord Afanas. Herbert was amused and excited at the same time.

“I can’t believe it! Have to tell Ludwig about this when we get home.” Herbert giggled like a child. “But where is he?”

“At the hotel, I guess. I’m afraid that he is trying to avoid father at the moment.” Alfred crossed his arms across his chest, one hand reached up to rest against his chin. “He upset father.”

“Really? What did he do?”

“I’m not sure. They said he lost his temper at the conference last night though father had been reminding him to behave. He’s easy to get on his nerves sometimes, you know...”

A voice calling Alfred’s name stopped their conversation. The young man only had time to tell Herbert to go home first and kiss him goodbye before heading back outside. Until now, Alfred still forgot to asked why there was such a coincidence that they met in the same store, and why Herbert was hiding in the store in the first place.

 


	16. Hunting

Alfred had returned to the hotel for quite a while. The young man puffed up with joy when he received his new clothes, his smile so full of content that it softened the heart of Count von Krolock. Soon, when the count arrived back to the castle in Transylvania, Herbert probably would be as happy as that. Herbert always loved presents.

Thinking of Herbert, the count’s mind, he knew not why, fixed on the awkward incident took place at the castle a week ago. He heaved a long sigh, and buried his head into thoughts once more, trying to untangle each knot of the mess he had set aside long enough.

 

_I think he likes you._

_Think about it for me, please?_

 

“He must have been joking… Must have been joking…” Count von Krolock muttered to himself, but then shook his head in disapproval, “But what if he had been serious all the times?” What a foolish question to ask himself, Krolock cursed. Of course Afanas was serious! His voice and eyes said everything. He let out another dreadfully sad sigh and tapped his fingers on the table, staring at the wine glass in front of his eyes. Now, the real question was, did he feel the same toward Lord Afanas?

Count von Krolock could not know.

“Kind” or “gentle” were not what one person would choose to describe the count of Krolock. “Clever” would be more suffice, both in actions and thoughts, since Count von Krolock always appeared to be fearless and imposing, determined, a man who always knew what to do and how to handle everything. But what no one knew was that, Count von Krolock was… clumsy in romance, despite the fact that he still owned a romantic soul. Herbert’s flirting nature were all inherited from the countess, if one must say. Ever since he was still a human, the count had embarrassed himself so many times stumbling over his words, just to express his love to his wife. And now facing Lord Afanas’ confession, he didn’t know what to do.

Lord Afanas had been nice to him since the first time they encountered, too nice to be considered a normal friend. The man was at least some good decades older than Krolock, and the way he tried his best to be gentle and cared for him, especially these days in Bremen, it was really touching. As if Krolock was fragile in Afanas’ eyes. Krolock was fond of Afanas, that was true, but he could not find it in his heart the same feeling he used to have with his wife. He could not define it.

Speaking of Lord Afanas, the man reminded Count von Krolock of someone he met ages ago, distinctly, but the count was not sure if they all happened to share the same appearance.

 

“Ya’re up late t’night.”

 

A thick voice dragged the count out of his thoughts, and the corner of his lips curled into a smirk. The questions had to wait again, he decided. Because of them, together with the investigation, he had neglected his hunting for nights. But no more waiting. Right here, right now, a human had come to sacrifice himself, so he would not just let his chance slip through his fingers. 

“Dear God, pal, ya look terrible!” The stranger commented in such a rude manner about the count’s pale skin and weary eyes. “Sick?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I was only… thinking a bit.” Count von Krolock hurried to bring the wine glass to his mouth, in order to hide his now itching fangs. If things went on smoothly like usual, he would take only a tiny amount of the stranger’s blood, enough to ease his painfully thirst, maybe a bit more to satisfy himself and gain the strength for a few more nights, but wouldn’t be too much to kill the human. But if silly human didn’t want to cooperate and pushed him to his edge…

The hunting would be drastic.

“Thinking? That must be some serious matter.” The stranger swallowed a mouthful gulp of beer. Through the way he breathed and talked, anyone could see he was clearly tipsy, or worse, drunk. He shifted closer to the count’s side and murmured, “Let’s think of something more pleasant and erase that frown on your face.”

“Not a bad idea at all.” The count crooned, “I’m interested.”

“Good for ya, I know all the best games to play to give ya pleasure.”

After such an offer, being observed up and down by the stranger’s scrutinizing gaze came as a surprise to the count, but not with anything nice. He didn’t usually meet a prey who was imprudent and straight-forward like this. “Oh? You do?”

“I can show you right now.” The stranger shamelessly said, his hand already moved to touch the count’s thigh and gave it a generous squeeze, didn’t even bother to glance at the poor barkeeper tiredly cleaning their equipment. Forcing a smile, Count von Krolock put down his glass and chuckled:

“There are eyes and ears in here.” He shook his head, “Besides, the night is getting late, so I have to go right now. It’s nice to know you, though. Have a good day.”

By that, Count von Krolock left his seat and merged into the darkness at the entrance of the inn.

The stranger believed he had seen the count wink.

His fangs were itching more and more painfully in his mouth, and the thirst for blood was attempting to conquer. But Count von Krolock had to control himself. The sky was still black, which was a relief to him. As he sauntered off on the deserted damp streets, he focused on the cold wind of winter. It reminded him of his mountains, easing the agony screaming inside his stomach.

Every vampire had the power to control a human’s mind or another vampire’s. For now, footsteps could be heard behind him. The fish had taken the bait. The steps got nearer and nearer and clearer, and…        

More footsteps, surrounded him. Count von Krolock didn’t expect this, as he perked his ears to find where the sound came from. When he walked past a small blind alley, two guys in slovenly dressing appeared and blocked his way. Another one’s breath was tickling on the back of his neck.

Before Count von Krolock could come up with anything to speak, the man behind had spun him around and grabbed him by his sides, lifted him up and threw into the alley like throwing a broken toy. The count’s back hit hard on the snowy ground. In a blink of an eye, he had seen himself grabbed again, this time by the collar, and he was brought up against a wall.

It was the man he talked to at the inn.

“Maybe a bit too old to my taste, but still… A beautiful noble.” The man sneered, “What a catch.”

“I think you should put me down, so then we can talk with each other like men.”

“I don’t want to!” The man snarled through gritted teeth and slammed the count’s head on the brick wall, so hard that the count thought he could have fainted if he were not a vampire. “We don’t want to.” The other two men were guarding around. “And ya’d better not open yar mouth when ya’re not allowed to!”

“So, what do you want?” The count remained surprisingly calm and, intentionally or not, raised his brows. It made the three strangers’ blood boil, simply because, where was the fun when the prey was not frightened? The count asked, “Money?”

“Of course!” One of the other two piped in, his hands roamed over the count’s body until he found what he wanted. The count never showed any sign of protest.

“You’ve got what you need. May I go now?” The count was still collected, “I won’t report this to anyone, and all of us will be fine.”

“Not so fast!” The man at the count’s neck hit him hard one more time, and the count could hear the brick behind his head begin to crack. “Don’t ya remember? I want something else.” His breath was heavy, and he drew out a dagger, tracing it from the count’s face to his chest, then his abdomen.

“Obedient, and I won’t hurt ya.”

“Sir, I warn you, if you past the point of no return, you wouldn’t be able to regret afterwards. I’m not joking.”

The man shut his ears to all those words. He didn’t even care his friends saying “We must go” and tightened his fist around the count’s neck. He lean closer, so close that their noses touched, and the smell of beer was reeked right upon the count’s face. “What are you going to do?” He cast the count a look of both hunger and dare, and he licked along the count’s jawline, before trailing the dagger further downward.

 


	17. Blood

An ear-piercing scream tore the silent night apart. Blood spilled wet the man’s shirt and also the count’s. As he stumbled back and fell, the man tried to shout for help, but no sound escaped. His dagger had been tossed away, while his accomplices were pressed down to the ground by an invisible force. The sight in front of his eyes stroke him with consternation. He could even feel flesh ripped out and dangling from his face! The wind direction had changed, the prey had become the predator. Everything was so fast that in only one eye blink, the last thing to appear at the back of his irises was the red colour of his blood on a monster’s sharp fangs. His vision darkened before he went completely numb, and the moon up high seemed to shatter into hundreds of bloody pieces.  

Cold wind brushed across Count von Krolock’s cheeks now covered with hot blood. His lips smiled a wicked smile as he sank his teeth into the man’s neck once more, satisfied his insatiable thirst with that precious red liquid. It was full of alcohol, though, not very much to the count’s fancy, but the smell was still so tempting and he could not resist.

Something heavy, cold and hard was thrown on his head. A filthy trash can, followed by stones and bricks. The pain they gave was nothing to the count. What he concerned now was that he had been reckless for the briefest of moments, and the two other men had gone.

Count von Krolock hissed when strong hands took a handful of his long hair and yanked so hard that he let out a fierce roar, baring his fangs. As he tried to reached up to catch them, an unknown powerful barrier blocked him, and something sharp stabbed into his side. Driven mad, the count hauled the man behind him over his shoulders and aimed at the one who just impaled him. Ember eyes glowed red in the dark like hellfire. The men crashed to each other, but didn’t give up, and they lunged for the count again. Their fists brandished, ready to punch, but the count slapped the flat of his hand with such strength that they were sent flying backwards until their backs hit the wall with a loud thump. They lay there, motionless.

A cross on one of the men’s necklace prevented the count from getting any closer. It hurt him terribly and almost sent him to his knees. The count looked around. The houses that formed this alley were abandoned, what a surprising luck, but his ears could hear voices from afar. People were waking, the sky had turned bright purple. Soon, they would find the corpse and these two men hidden in this dark alley.

But the count didn’t have to worry about the men. They would never remember his face. Never. 

Count von Krolock placed a hand on the dagger. It pinned deep to the handle into his flesh, but he was not able to take it out. He would lost all his blood before he could make it to his place. Couldn’t turn into a bat at this moment, the count decided to make his way back on the rooftops, using shadows to hide himself from wandering eyes. He remembered climbing into his room by the windows. Right as his foot touched the floor, he collapsed. His wound was burning, the blade that stabbed him had to be made by silver. Though he couldn’t understand why a simple human would have a silver blade, this was not the right time for him to worry about it. He could think straight no more.

“Mein Gott, what happened? Alfred? Alfred!”

“Some violent fools and I was careless. That’s all.” The count snorted. His eyes fluttered and he could see his vision blur.

Count von Krolock felt somebody gently lifted him to lay on their lap, trying to ease his heavy panting. A smaller hand took hold of his. It must be Alfred. Then somebody covered his mouth and he was pinned to the floor, before a sudden deadly pain ran through his body when the dagger was finally withdrew. It still hurt, but at least his wound didn’t feel so scorching anymore. Voices were murmuring his name, but now he couldn’t keep his mind awake. Soon, Count von Krolock drift into unconsciousness.

 


	18. Carpe Noctem

Rain was pouring like waterfalls outside the castle, grey clouds came to cover the night sky like thick blankets, hid away even the brightest light of the moon. Dark, so dark. There were no torches or lanterns in the castle, only the glowing red eyes of the demonic bats hanging upside down on the ceiling could be seen. No sound could be heard. No one could be found, but for a man in his late thirties, tumbling his ways among the stairs and paths. His whole body soaked due to the outside rain, so cold that he shook on his every steps. 

A laugh from nowhere echoed through the air. It was not a laugh of madness, but deep and full of amusement, could easily send shivers down anyone’s spine. After a while, it stopped, replaced by a voice that terrifyingly low:

“Poor lost little bird, so lonely in this place.”

“Who… Who’s that?” The man asked the darkness, but he could not even hear his own voice.

“Carpe noctem, carpe noctem, carpe noctem…” The voice never answered, instead, it kept mumbling those words like a chant. “Think of nothing. Listen to me and close your eyes. Only darkness could save your soul.”

Even though everything was so ambiguous and enigmatic, the man obeyed and closed his eyes. He struggled to breath, shaking from both cold and fear.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The man was certain that he had answered, but he still could not hear anything escape his throat. Every word from him had been muffled.

“I like your name.” The voice continued, and that demonic laugh returned. “I’ll take it.”

“Take my name? What… What does that even mean?” The man summoned all his courage to choke out the question, but once more, his voice faded into the total darkness. The laugh echoed around him, and out of a sudden, he felt it right beside his ears, tickling on every inch of skin on the nape of his neck.

Then he sensed somebody standing close behind him.   

Only when invisible claws scratch his back and something sharp press on his throat did panic hammer inside the man. His eyes flung open and he reeled his feet running away. The laugh was still haunting his mind, and he thought he might go crazy. All the sights and scenes around him twisted into broken images. The ground moved, shaking the castle violently. Dust started to fall down and walls began to crack. In a blink of an eye, the whole castle had collapsed, leaving only a mess of rocks and stones under his feet.

The rain never stopped pouring. A deafening thunder roared, followed by a lightning strike across, tearing the night sky apart with a blazing light. When the man opened his eyes again, the sky was clear, and he saw himself standing in a tranquil green field. So peaceful. The dawn was only about to break, cool wind brushed across the grass and danced on his face. Over there, sitting on the field and waiting for the sun to rise, sat a lady. She had the most beautiful bright blond hair, and she smiled a smile bright as the daylight when she saw him. She brought a familiar feeling which was so warm, which felt like… home, and he wanted to dive into that sensation forever. But he could never see her face, there was always a mist covering his eyes, which made everything so dizzy, so mysterious.

When the man thought he was going to kiss the lady, a screech pierced through his ears and his eyes went wide once again. Shock came to him. Red blood was all over her neck as she fell senseless in his arms, the red liquid dripping from his mouth and chin, staining their white clothes, staining the green grass.

His world shattered again.

Count von Krolock bolted right up. The abrupt action made his pain throbbing, and he winced. He sighed, at least he was safe in his room, his eyes blinked several times before they adjusted to the dim light. An arm caught him from behind, held him, and helped him slowly lay down. He looked up, and then down to his body. He was wearing a new shirt and black breeches, and as he touched his side, he could feel bandages. This was not the first time he had his wounds taken care by others, but thinking about himself being cared and even changed outfits by that obvious Lord Afanas… it made he feel so embarrassed. Hadn’t the man seen enough of his body? And worse, now he was curling between Afanas’ arms and his head was resting against the man’s chest!

“How do you feel?”

“Headachy… It’s sore all over… Thirsty…” Count von Krolock chuckled. He grimaced as he realized his throat was painfully dry. How long did he fall asleep? “I’m so sorry. Things like this rarely happen ever since I passed my fledgling time.”

“Here.” Lord Afanas acted as if he didn’t hear the other man’s apology. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and bared his wrist to the count. “You lost a lot of blood. Take mine.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine. Please just let me have a cup of water.”

“No, you’re not.” Lord Afanas opposed, “What you need is blood. Drink.”

“My hunger for blood is already satisfied.”

“But you lost more blood than you took!” Lord Afanas raised his voice, but soon realized he was losing his head again, and he fell silent. When he regained his calm, he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. That was childish. But you must listen to me, at least this time. There’s no need to prove how well you can control your thirst now, even though you’re not feeling like wanting it, you need it. You lost a lot of blood, Krolock.”

Seeing Count von Krolock was still hesitating, Afanas brought his wrist to his mouth and bit himself, letting the blood flow, then brought it to the count’s mouth. His gaze softened, he smiled a bit, encouraging the other man to drink. The count stared at the bleeding wrist for a moment, but finally pressed his lips on it, his eyes half-closed, and he drank, taking as much as he was allowed, easing his dry throat and gaining his strength with the dark red liquid.

“Better?” Lord Afanas withdrew his hand when the other man refused to drink anymore. Count von Krolock only nodded, slightly licked his lips. Afanas had to resist his urge not to trace his fingers on those lips.

“Where’s Alfred?”

“I sent him to his room.” Said Lord Afanas, “He worried for you. Has been running around to help with the bandages and boiling water. He needs to rest.”

“Thank you… Both of you.” Krolock sighed.

“Are you still crossed at me?” Afanas whispered.

“For what?”

“Well, I screwed up everything. What happened at the castle…” He glanced up to see if the count showed any sign of being offended when he mentioned the bathroom incident, and when the count was still calm as always, he went on, “What happened at the meetings… I was childish and couldn’t keep a cool head. You were embarrassed so much because of me…and…and… _-sigh-_ You even refused to take my blood.”

“Sir Afanas, why should I be crossed at you?” Count von Krolock whispered, his voice still hoarse, “I’ve told you that I don’t mind about the meetings. And forgive me if I troubled you by refusing your help. It’s just… I was a bit disturbed at that moment.”

“Is that so?”

“I had a nightmare.” Krolock’s voice turned blank.

“Oh. I see. Are you alright now?”

“Thank you for your concern, I’m as healthy as ever.” As he proudly declared, Count von Krolock shifted to the edge of the bed, tended to sit straight up.

“Krolock, stop. Don’t ever think of getting off the bed.” Lord Afanas ordered, “Your wound is not completely healed. The silver burn was terrible.”

“I’ve met things worse than this.” Krolock waved off the warning, a bit of mocking in his tone. “Used to serve the army and face Death himself, this is merely a petty child-play.”

“Krolock, you hadn’t sipped a drop of blood for nights when you were attacked. You were not well at all. Your wound is taking more time to heal.” Afanas pointed to the bandages wrapped around the other man’s abdomen.

“Worry not for this scanty old man, he can take care of himself…”

Count von Krolock barely finished his sentence, his arm had been gripped and he was pulled back onto the bed. It made his pain pierce through his flesh again, and the count groaned. He would be happy if Afanas was punched for that imprudent action, he thought as he yielded and rested himself between the pillows.

“Don’t let Herbert know about this, will you?”

Lord Afanas smiled and nodded, as he tucked the other man on the bed. “The sun is still shining outside. Go to sleep.” He said softly. Count von Krolock squirmed and averted his eyes. He was an ancient vampire, he didn’t need pampering like a little kid like this!

“Have a nice sleep.” Lord Afanas whispered, before placing two kisses on the count’s cheeks. He soon disappeared from the room afterwards.

Count von Krolock brought the blanket up to his nose, as his mind suddenly got tangled in a rebellious whirl.

“He’s only showing his regards. He’s only showing his regards. He’s only showing his regard…” 

Just a few moments later, Count von Krolock had sunk into sleep. This time, he didn’t dream of anything.

 


	19. The Visit

The final testimony of the murder case arrived late, so the journey had to be prolonged much more than plan. It was exhausted for all three of them, especially for Count von Krolock, when the wound of his had not yet completely healed. It got much better, though, his blood didn’t ooze and his flesh didn’t feel so scorched. Meanwhile, it was Lord Afanas who took possession of the dagger.

Time seemed to fly slowly when one became restless, and though a crowded city like Bremen was like a fresh breeze to enjoy, the old count still could not find himself at ease. He missed his mountains already.

Count von Krolock remembered sensing the other man leave since early, when the sun was still high. Like usual, Lord Afanas would stumble to and fro to run through his things, creating ruckus wherever his feet approached. Even a heavy sleeper like the count could feel annoyed. The count vaguely felt the lord fumbling with his shirt pocket and mumbling something, but he was too drowsy to comprehend or care at all. Just in a second, he had drifted back into sleep, his pocket forgotten.

It was one evening that Count von Krolock decided to take a stroll. By the nearby river, to refresh himself from the intricate business, he planned. The bandages had been got rid of for a while, so he thought Alfred wouldn’t mind if he went out alone for a walk.  

The dock was abandoned, only a lone gondola was floating nonchalantly at a distance so far. So strange, when this was so well-known as a harbor city. The count rested on an old bench after a long while jogging, watching attentively at the moonlight dancing on the dark water as he let his mind wander. He didn’t notice that, once again, next to him, had settled down a person.

.

.

However much Alfred explained and pled him to go home, Herbert still wanted to see his father. After all, he wished to show the count how sincere he was, and he could think of no better way than meeting him face to face to give a proper apology.

Beneath the weak halos of the street lamps, Herbert turned his thick collar to the cold of winter. It was nothing compared to the frost on the Transylvanian mountains, but Herbert just shrugged, reasoning that it’d be better to keep himself free from the dust of city – which he didn’t usually come across in the wild back home. Although it was dark, Herbert was able to notice his father at the end of a slope that guided to the river. His heart thumped hard with ecstasy. He was about to make a dramatic slide down and surprise the count, but then, he faltered. The count… it seemed that he was in the middle of a conversation. Herbert wondered who that stranger was, but they looked like they were threatening his father, as the count kept stepping backwards. 

.

.

“What do you come here for?” Blankly, Count von Krolock asked.

“We haven’t met for ages, isn’t it bad for me to pay you a visit?” The other man burst out laughing, and it was nothing but the insidious demonic laugh that the count heard in his nightmare. The man ended with a wink, his eyes sparked up with amusement like black diamonds glinted in the snow, “But you must have predicted it, don’t you? I did give you quite a hint.”  

“Don’t play with others’ minds anymore, I ask of you.”

“You don’t enjoy that dream, then? Oh, you make me feel so sad, I thought you would appreciate it like I do.” The man made a face of being pitiful, his dulcet voice grew suave in a teasing way. “You know how it’s hard to find something to start with. I only wished to evoke some memory between us.”

“A memory that I do wish to cast into oblivion.” The count snorted.

“We have so, so different feeling about it.” The man shook his head and crooned, taking in pleasure at the count’s rising distress. “It was the day when you came to me, how could either of us ever forget.”

“I deeply regret it.”

“What did I do to offend you so much?”

“It was because of you and your mind-breaking tricks that somebody had to die.” Count von Krolock’s voice rumbled like distant thunders as he groaned, then with a grimace he turned away. If there really were people he hoped never to catch a glimpse of again, then this man would be at the top of the list. 

“Come on, it’s been almost three hundred years. Are you still crossed at me?”

“Oh how could I ever be crossed at you…” Count von Krolock responded with a mocking tone, his flaming gaze glared enough to kill a normal person, “dearest Count Dracula who is so respectful.” The man’s name slipped through his gritted teeth, and his face twisted, repulsively. The count was still facing away when he talked, expecting a monstrous wrath from the other man. But the wrath didn’t come. It never did. There was only the wind howling by his ears, followed by a now maniac laugh.

“I only came here with good purposes, don’t strain everything out.” Dracula calmly said, hand reached to stroke the white beard under his chin. “Do not always lament on the past like that, dear Krolock. I really am sorry for your wife, but…”

“You have no right to talk about her!”

Like a dam which had broken all of its solid bricks, Count von Krolock roared, and the other voice stopped dead. His chest felt heavy as he bit back the tears that had never been there, air seemed to be suffocated in his lungs. He wanted to end this untimely conversation in peace like always, but this man, the man who had led to the death of his beloved, decided to push him to his edge. He could hear his blood pounding painfully in his ears. The count turned back. But then, he saw no one. Only him, isolated by the river.

 

“Have no right, you say?”

 

The familiar yet terrifyingly low voice brushed across the nape of his neck made Count von Krolock jump. Dracula was behind him, grinning menacingly with his hellish sharp fangs exposed. Oh how the count despised that grin. Stepping one step back, Count von Krolock said:

“I believed you. But what did you do?” His voice started to broke, despite the very gathered looking he still held. “Kept me at bay in that cursed castle of yours. For nothing!”

“But did your wife die when you came back home?”  Dracula approached closer to the count as he spoke. His expression was unreadable, and the count hated it. It was impossible to plan the next move like this. Dracula’s tone was harmless, but his smirk and slit irises were daring. Count von Krolock stepped another step back.

“If you didn’t keep me there, I could have returned when my wife was strong enough…”

“But you still decided to do it when she was too fragile.” The other man rushed forward, until they were only inches apart. “In another way of speaking, it was **you** who **murdered** your own wife. While I, in fact, never lay a hand on her.”

“You…”

“Am I right?”

Count von Krolock’s eyes were wide at the words and his body stoned. He had nothing more to say.

“Think hard about it, who is really not having the right to speak of her?” The voice lowered to a whispered, brushed across the count’s ear in an eerie sensation that could force anyone’s every hair to stand on end. It was tempting, to lunge at the man and finish each other in battle cries, but Count von Krolock couldn’t make it. Not when guilt was devouring him all over once more. “The image of that day is still vivid in my mind, Krolock, how you came to me, knelt at my feet and how you begged me so hopelessly.” His laugh rumbled in his throat and the sound of it vibrated in the air. “You have just barely passed two centuries old. Compared to me, you are nothing but a little bird. Therefore, you should know how to show your sire much more respect than this.” His skeletal hands came up to pat at Count von Krolock’s cheeks. “Don’t get used to raising your voice at me, dearest Krolock. After all, you should remember, you belong to me.” His voice was full of excitement and amusement, like he was petting a favourite pet. A gentle yet freezing hand guided the count’s chin up, and Krolock could feel his neck being slightly squeezed, before claw-like nails traced along the very mark where his sire had sunk his fangs in ages before. A cold wind blew by, dragging with it fog from the outside water. The mist soon turned thick like soup, wrapping around them. When it was gone, so was Dracula.

Count von Krolock sighed.

A small noise of rock falling alarmed him that he was not alone.

“H-Herbert? What are you doing here?”

“All of those things… what do they mean, father?” Herbert muttered his words as his tongue stuck in his mouth. His eyes hurt, and the vision started to blur with red colour.

“You… You’ve heard it all, haven’t you?”

“Please tell me they’re all lies!” Herbert raised his voice, “Don’t just stare at me like that, tell me! About mother… Are those things I heard all true?”

Count von Krolock gave his son a dreadfully sad gaze. His lips formed a thin line, and he nodded. He could hear how hard Herbert gulped. Before he could speak of anything more, Herbert had cast him a look of obvious disappointment, then shook his head and ran away.

 


	20. The Cat

Herbert kept running, no matter how exhausted he was or how he was unsure where his legs would lead to. He only knew that at this very moment, he wanted to hide from his father as far as possible. Herbert didn’t know since when did streams of bloody tears pour freely down his cheeks, frozen and stained his face under the cold of winter. Everything was so sudden, and the truth unveiled was beyond what he could bear. Herbert didn’t want to believe. But what was the point of not giving up trust? He heard them all with his own ears, it was father who killed mother, and it was him who hid it all this time. Once again in his long life, Herbert felt petrified at his father.

Herbert only stopped when his leg could stand no more and he collapsed, realizing he was kneeling by the shore of a frozen river. Trees and bushes surrounded the area and there were no houses in sight, so he assumed that he had at least reached the suburb. Sitting on the snowy ground, Herbert pressed his knees to his chest and hugged himself. Just like that, he cried. He didn’t even know for how long had he been sobbing, but when there were no more tears to fall, his eyes had swollen red. He didn’t want to go anywhere anymore. He only sat there, watching the iced river in silence.

Something moving beneath the ice caught Herbert’s attention, forcing him on all four and crawl nearer. The water was pit black, but Herbert could see, under it there was something struggling to swim up the surface. He narrowed his eyes. It was an animal, and it got stuck! Like a flash Herbert bolted up and rushed to the ice, too fast that he almost tripped and fell flat, face down. Carefully, he tip-toed towards the animal. A cracking sound occurred, and in a blink of an eye the thin ice broke into pieces, causing Herbert to fall right down the freezing water. Fortunately, this part of the river was shallow enough for Herbert to find his way up, bringing that wiggling thing with him, too. It had much fur and wore the colour of soot black. Once Herbert had them both settle on the shore did he realize, it was a cat.

The cat allowed itself to have a fitting cough before shaking its body violently, letting water splash everywhere, including Herbert. Then it nonchalantly sat down in the most inelegant way, spreading its legs and licked its fur. Herbert observed it was fondness. He had never seen any cats as big as it, it looked so chonky and he only wanted to dig his fingers into its fat fluffy belly.

Once satisfied with its bathing, the cat turned to Herbert and snuggled close to him, rubbing its head to his thigh.

“No need to thank.” Herbert smiled. Then he looked down at himself. His clothes were already stained with his tears, and now thanks to the cat it got all soaked. His hair was horrid, too, he knew. He looked just like a drained rat. “But whose cat is this?” Herbert wondered as he pick the cat up, roaming his hand across its fur to check for any name tag or such.

 

“That cat is mine.”

 

The woman who had just respond to Herbert owned an ethereal beauty. She was not tall, she was slim, but the curves on her body were still so gorgeous and charming. Her long curly hair was so vibrant that Herbert think it may be made of pure gold. However, her clothes was eccentric, which gave Herbert the thought that she might be a foreigner. But the things confused Herbert the most was that, why did her hair and clothes were disheveled, and why she herself, looking so young and healthy, had to walk with a cane. 

“Oh, then I give it back to you. I found it almost drown in the river!”

Herbert stood up, politely bowed. When he handed the woman the cat, the animal went wild. It bared its sharp teeth, hissed into her face as its claws scratched mercilessly. No matter how hard Herbert pushed it away, it always clung onto him, roared, hooking its claws into his skin and shirt as if he was its only savior.

“What is it, kitten? You must be cherish to see your owner!”

“It’s always been a wrathful cat. I do apology.” The woman smiled and embraced the cat, despite the fact that it kept wiggling fiercer and fiercer to the point of madness. Herbert’s help was in vain. The cat snarled, bit into her hand when she had it once more in her arms. “Naughty cat! Did the devil possess you?” She angrily yelled at the face of the groaning animal and seized tight the skin at the back of its neck, immobilized it. And then she went.

“It just got wet, so remember to heat it up and keep warm.” Herbert reminded when the woman walked away.

“Of course!” She crooned, didn’t bother to look back her shoulders. “Kitten will be **heated** warm. Very, very **warm**.” She purred at the cat, though it still bared its fangs at her.

Herbert kept his gaze on the woman until she vanished behind the trees. Then he sighed, uncertain what to do next. But before he could shift his feet, from behind the trees came caterwaul, an ear-piercing shriek, and then Herbert saw the cat returning to him.

And for God’s sake, it was running with its hind legs!

As if a cat running on only two was not enough, the cat even hid behind Herbert’s back and spoke. For the love of God, it spoke!

“Please help me! Don’t let her catch me! I’m not her cat!”

The cat trembled at it clutched tight at Herbert’s trousers. The woman appeared in no long time, fury burnt in her eyes. She had no difficulty spotting the cat, and the cat knew it. It point one paw at her and growled, “Witch! Go away! Fearsome and hateful witch!”

The woman stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the cat yell. Her gaze went mad in front of Herbert’s stun. She tilted her chin arrogantly. Hellish green whorls glow deep within her body, slowly fading into smoke around her when she lifted the cane up and aimed it at Herbert. The cane immediately transformed into a white sword.

“So now you’ve known too much. Very well. You will share the same fate with this pathetic feline.” Her lips curled up into a crooked evil smile. But then she frowned, staring attentively at Herbert. “Hold up. Where’re all the scratches that the cat left on your face?”

“Um… They’re… healed?” Herbert chewed the inside of his cheeks before he answered, wondered why she would ask such a question.

Laughter echoed through the spacious land as the woman indulged herself in her own pleasurable insanity. It rose alarm in Herbert, and he clenched his fists in defense, shielding himself between her and the cat. The woman grinned at Herbert, free to jeer, “I know it! Right at the start, I’ve noticed your skin is inhumanly pale. You’re a vampire! Pathetic creatures, you should be dead!”

By that, she brandished her sword and lunged at Herbert with a primal scream and at a speed so horrible.

 


	21. Herbert, Wake Up!

“What the… Release me! Release me!”

The witch cried when out of a sudden her arms were pinioned and locked behind her back with an impossible strength, her sword dropped down on the last patches of grass. Lord Afanas had had her trapped between his muscular arms no matter how furiously she fought, while Alfred was standing between Herbert and her, eyes closed tight, arms crossed in front of his face as he formed a magical shield with an intricate design that he had always been proudly practicing.

“Herbert, go find your father!”

Lord Afanas’ voice was soon muffled by the shout of the witch. Herbert hesitated. Alfred pushed him, “Run along this river and you will find him. Fetch him here, Herbert! We can keep her at bay, but not for long. So go!”

Nodded, Herbert ran.

But the witch couldn’t give up that easily. She attempted to sneak out of her captor, knocking back her head that her skull hit her enemy’s chin with a large thump. Blood started to spurt and smear, the foul smell of it invaded Lord Afanas’s mouth. However, he never let go of the witch. Seeing it was no use, the witch turned her power to the plants around. Her eyes glowed, and branches of trees began to stretch like hands of forest monsters, seizing the body of the man and squeezed it until he could feel his organs crushed. He had to but release her. In the air then appeared a broom. The witch grabbed her sword and climbed on her broom, flew away with no glancing back, leaving by the river two men and a cat struggle with magical trees.

Herbert was still dashing when he was gripped by a good mane of hair, and in a second, he had found himself lifted off the ground. Herbert bared his claws and teeth to scratch and bite the witch in a drastic attack. He climbed onto the witch’s back and sank his fangs into her neck, forcing her to throw him on a deserted land like throwing a rock, she herself also lost her balance and fell. Powdery snow dust stuffed the air. Herbert had barely turned when he saw the stormy green eyes of the witch glow behind the mist, when she once again lunged at him.

Herbert brought his arms to defend himself from her punches. But he was, unfortunate for her, not reluctant to strike back. Herbert was much bigger, with a giant height that he inherited from his father side, so it was only child play for him to wrestle and put the witch to the ground. The witch was stubborn, though. With blood and adrenaline pumping in every vein, she kicked Herbert’s lower abdomen with her knees, causing him a throbbing pain so terrible that he had to stumble back. Taking advantage, the witch bent up her leg and kicked Herbert square on his face, her high heel broke the nose of the viscount apart, blood spilled from his nostrils and mouth.

Herbert roared, struggling on the ground when the handle of the broom flailed on his head. The witch was planting her foot firmly on the middle of his back with a smugly look on her face. Her maniac laugh of satisfactory rang loud when she increased the pressure on him, making Herbert cry at the cracking sound that his spine just created. Wrestling with Alfred would be much more fun.

But then, a large thud occurred, and the weight on Herbert’s body lifted off, the witch herself tossed away.

“Are you still fine?”

“Certainly!” Herbert responded, with no hesitation grabbed his father’s hand and let him pull to his feet. “Still can stand.” He tried to look confident however tragic the look he held. Count von Krolock brought his hand to wipe the bloody smudges on his son’s face.

Suddenly, Herbert yelped, pulling his father to crouch down when the sword flew straight towards them. It hit a rock and staked into a dun. “That was close.” The viscount panted in relief.

The witch had returned to her consciousness, her neck bent in a hideous way when she glared at them. Her green eyes lit up again, filled with madness, her irises shrank into two tiny dots. And she laughed, despite the blood streaming down her neck to her bosom and glued over her hair. Herbert headed for her sword, but failed. His hand had merely wrapped around the handle did he have to withdraw with a loud hiss. As he stared down at his palm, Herbert could see it redden and blister painfully, the fizzing sound of burnt meat tingled his ears. It was a silver sword!

The sword, as if was tugged by invisible threads, drew out from the dun and in a second was again in the hand of the witch. The broom arrived from out of nowhere, swiftly brought her to the high sky. Not giving her a chance to escape, Count von Krolock took a great leap, with his bare fist he struck a blow, sending her back to the cold hard ground. Her high pitch cries were enough to wake the dead when the count flipped her to lay on her stomach, hands locked.

“Release me! You inferior blood suckers!” The witch yelled, only to receive a hit on her skull. The count cast her a disdainful look.

“You won’t be able to say it once I suck your blood dry.”

“You will die for this.”

She hissed like a snake, yet her body stopped wiggling. Lifting only her head up, her gaze turned its attention to Herbert.

Thud.

“Herbert, what are you doing?”

Count von Krolock looked up at his son with perplexed eyes. The viscount said nothing, but approached and shoved his father to a distance away. He didn’t seem to be on his right mind. His eyes gone feral, wild, pupils shrank into slits like those of a reptile. Not being himself anymore, Herbert lunged at his father in a vicious attack.

Soon, he received a slap and fell flat.

“Herbert, wake up! Herbert!”

The count shouted. Despite Herbert’s protest, the count gripped at his shoulders, shaking him, hoping to pull him out of whatever controlling his mind. Meanwhile, the witch stood there watching them with pure amusement. But Herbert couldn’t hear him. His fangs were still out and his face twisted in some terrible mask of hate. In a flash, once more, Herbert launched himself at his father with every intention. To tear flesh apart. To kill.

The spell bewitched on Herbert was too powerful that he could not feel pain at all. He strangled his father and aimed for the throat like a starving beast. The count, no matter how much he didn’t wish to do it, had to fight back. Upon seeing his strikes were always efficiently thwarted, Herbert reached for the silver sword. The blade took its blow, only to slashed through thin air as the count dodged it with ease. Driven mad, Herbert brandished the sword once more, in his mind for now there was only one insane desire: to end his own father. But then, he could never defeat the count. His body ended up flying a distance with a backhand of his father, crashed against a rock before he yielded, his weapon taken.

“Herbert?” The count knelt by his son’s side, his voice raw due to exhaustion. Gentle yet firm hands cupped Herbert’s face and guided his head up, Herbert’s blank gaze and Count von Krolock’s worrying eyes aligned. “Can you hear me?” The count repeated.

Herbert smiled, but no answer escaped. The smile soon turned into a crippling grin, and that was when the count realized his Herbert had not returned yet. The viscount’s hand fumbled through the ground, though his eyes never left his father’s, and slowly, but intentionally, Herbert aimed a sharp piece of wood to his own heart.

“Wake up! You’re killing yourself!” The count’s voice turned hoarse like gravel as he cried out desperately. His hand grasped Herbert’s in an attempt to stop him, but it was no easy task. Herbert just merely cast him a daring look and went on pressing the stake to his chest.

“Worry not. Once the boy is in hell, you will soon follow.”

Those words were colder than the winter itself, sending shivers down the count’s spine, and fear hammered painfully inside his chest. The witch chuckled as she approached, a demonic grin formed on her face. Two long blazing daggers were in her hands, ready to brandish at any moment.

 


	22. Night Of Magic

“Father?”

Herbert’s soft mutter pushed the count to his edge, and the man found himself embrace his son so tightly that both were barely able to breathe at all. In the briefest of moment, danger was forgotten, as the count brushed his son’s hair as if he was still a little child, pampering him in overwhelmed emotions. “I could have lost you.” The count whispered, while Herbert strained his mind about what he could have done that made them both so distorted.

A hiss drew father and son out of their moment. Fury went ablaze over the witch’s face as her hiss turned into a fearsome shriek. Her legs had been glued to the ground, sticking her in one place, leaving only her upper body mobilized. No matter how much she struggled, some invisible force was clinging on her ankles like chains, made her unable to lift her feet even one bit.

Also at that moment, Count von Krolock was helped to stand up. It was Lord Afanas, and accompanied with him stood Alfred. The count tilted his head with curiosity at the black bundle in Alfred’s arms – which he soon learnt to be a cat, but then, he shook those thoughts off to concern for their well being. Whatever happened to them, it must be equally drastic to cause them so many scratches.

The witch groaned, glaring at the men with murderous eyes, “What kind of vile has done this?"

“It’s me.”

A cracked voice responded. From nowhere approached another man. He was lanky, but reached the height of seven feet tall, even towering over the count. Therefore, when he got nearer, the witch looked no more like a hobbit compared to him. Alfred shuffled his feet uncomfortably as he was feeling the same, too.

“Koroviev!”

Both Herbert and the cat exclaimed, and all scrutinizing gazes now focused on the talking cat.

“Koroviev, my friend!” The cat bloated with ecstasy as it jumped off Alfred’s embrace. With no hesitation it rushed to the tall man before hoping into his hug. And, just like Herbert, everyone was stunned to see the cat run on two. “Where have you been?” The cat wheedled, headbutting with its friend like rams, “You left me here dealing this beast alone!” It gave the witch a glance, then snuggled close to Koroviev’s touch, purred happily when the man scratched its ears.

The witch’s patience grew thin. She growled, “Release me, you demon!”

“Release you, so you can go on harming these people?” Koroviev pointed at the other men, then chuckled in the most dramatic way, “Tsk tsk, that’s no good, beauty.”

“They are not human!” She hooted, “They’re vampires! They have to perish!”

“Do you have any problem with vampires?”

“A demon like you should know they are the most inferior kind, Koroviev. Those moonstruck nocturnal creature, neither human nor dead, what all they’re superior to are only the disgusting zombies!” She snorted, heeding no care to the rising anger of the men at her insults, “May them be eliminated to the last one! This is the dogs eats dogs world, after all.”

“So you decided to enforce your so-called lofty mission on your own?”

“You should see what I’ve achieved so far.” She burst out laughing, her last piece of sanity crumbled into dust. No need to be asked, she went on, “And Dracula is a notable one of a kind. Such a chance couldn’t be missed. But life is simply… life. Who could ever know I would bump into a whole den of vampires here! I truly didn’t waste my time travel from Harz Mountains at all!”

She ended with another maniac laugh, which arouse offense in the cat as well as the vampires. The cat bristled up its fur in an ultimate rage as it launched at the witch to give her a good slap with its paw. Meanwhile, Lord Afanas had to restrain himself to focus on their wounds or he would assail her as well. It was her who tricked his and Alfred’s minds to lure them into her traps, until that black cat appeared and she left them to hunt it down.

“You are no noble, either.” The cat pointed directly to her face, then turned to Koroviev. “She had the guts to wreck havoc at Harz Mountains, and even dared to steal the precious sword of messir!” It referred to the silver sword, as it stood with front legs on its hips. “I followed her, and she decided to drown me!”

The witch scowled at the cat with her murderous eyes wide, causing it to whimper and hide behind Koroviev with its tail between its legs. Yet, the cat was a talkative feline. “Had it not been for that blond man then I wouldn’t be able to survive. Thank you! And oh… thank you, too,  you have excellent ear scratching skill!” It waved to Alfred and chirped, which made the young man cannot help his giggles at the adorable sight.

By some miraculous way, the witch began to move. Soon, she broke free of her chains. Knowing that she was the underdog at the moment, she gathered all the strength she had left and ran. But had she barely gone a few feet and her broom was still out of hand, she had been captured by the cloak and yanked backward violently, followed by a series of whipping, with her body as the whip. The world turned upside down in her eyes when she was lifted up into the air before an inhuman strength knocked her down so hard that the rocky ground cracked. In no long time she collapsed, flatly, having to power to speak let along protesting. A hand with no mercy came to pull her up by the hair.

“Gotcha, you cursing deserter!”

The captor spoke with an unpleasant nasal voice. If tonight incidents with magic were not enough to astonish the Krolocks and Afanas, then this newcomer had fulfilled their astonishment. He was brief, but had extraordinarily broad shoulders and his strength was unyielding. If one eye was crossed and having albugo on the other was not terrifying enough, then sticking out from the corner of his mouth was an arched fang. And his hair was vibrantly red like hellfire.

“Let’s see what messir will do when I’ve dragged you back. Once we’ve done, and it’ll be quick so worry not, you’ll be helpful with the recent missing of numerous vampires.” He grinned, bringing more fearsome features to his ugly face. When Koroviev handed him the silver sword, he took it with gratefulness, then knocked the handle on the witch’s head. “Well well well, you do have guts. Dared to steal messir’s sword? Oh then I wish you a great Walpurgis Night in the cells this year!”

So saying, he dragged the witch away like a tiny ragdoll. But the hot headed woman still wanted to strike back one last time. Aiming her palms at Herbert, she summoned all the power remained in her core to build up a small white glow. It shoot light at the vampire like a shooting star, ended up with her being hit one more blow to the point of unconsciousness. The horse that carried the red haired man and the witch trotted into the air in front of amazed eyes, then in a blink, vanished behind the thick coats of cloud.

Dumbfounded, Herbert didn’t realize since when did his father stand in front of him. The witch’s last strike was fast, but the count had in time forming a magical shield between her and them. However, things happened too fast, his shield was not strong enough to protect them all. After only half of a second, Count von Krolock had felt his shield crack, and a pain impaled him through his skin.

“Father, are you alright?”

Herbert asked when the count leaned back against him with a wince. He only shook his head. With a final heavy breath, his body went numb, and he let himself fall right onto Herbert’s lap as the viscount settled them both on the ground. The count’s eyes still opened, yet, they were lifeless, staring into the void.

“Father?”

No answer.

Fear coiled up inside Herbert and he swallowed hard, shaking his father to wake him from whatever was freezing his mind. But the count remained motionless. “Father, answer me! Don’t scare me, please…” Herbert’s voice began to broke, as he choke back a mournful moan. Until one moment did Herbert notice, on the count’s chest, had been there a wound.

Herbert’s scream tore the silent night apart.

 


	23. Death Is Not Here

“Father…”

Rawness came to Herbert’s voice as he tried to choke back his tears in his endless inaudible cries. He had no idea how long had he been crying, but he didn’t care. His body trembled like a leaf in front of the wind as he held onto his father, hands wrinkled the already crumpling fabric, murmuring “wake up” into the count’s ears in a fragile hope that soon went in vain. Arms wrapped over his shoulders to comfort him, Alfred leaned forward to hug him, but Herbert couldn’t find for himself the calmness he wanted. Tears kept pouring down his cheeks and stained his clothes as he wiped them, bloody colour smeared over his puffy eyes.

“I’m so sorry…”

He sniffed, pressing his forehead against his father’s, wishing to break the invisible barrier that blocked their minds away and find him in his dreams or such.

But all Herbert could sense was emptiness.

He burst into his silent weeps again.

Koroviev, from where he was standing, had seen them all. Yet, he could do nothing. Life and death was too much for him to handle, he reminded himself. But the cat… No one knew why it kept running in circles. Its head turned from this way to that, its ears perked up to listen to any evidence of sound but for the mourning, the feline’s large green orbs looking for somebody that only his friend knew who.

“Koroviev.” The cat narrowed its eyes as it called out, feet never stopped moving restlessly. “Don’t you see anything strange?”

“What is strange?”

For once, the cat paused. It cast its friend a disappointing look, taken aback for Koroviev had no clue about what he should be well aware. “Abaddon hasn’t arrived. He’s not here.” Explained the cat.

“Yes… I haven’t caught any sight of him.” Koroviev scanned the scenario and hummed, but then, he shrugged, “But so what?”

“If that old man is truly dead, can never come to wake again I mean…” The glances the cat gave to the Krolocks were few and quick, “then Abaddon must have been here. People may be unable to see him, but we do!” 

The cat’s words struck on the giant demon’s mind and he muttered a soft “oh”. Abaddon was another one of the immortal, but unlike many others, he was the incarnation of death, the king of the angels under the Abyss. He never appeared for longer than a short while, but whenever he did, they would sense him, no matter how impeccable his works were. Koroviev scratched his chin, “Then, you mean…”

The cat quickly nodded. In a blink of an eye it had dashed to the side of Herbert, before hoping onto Count von Krolock’s lap like a favourite pet of him. “He’s alive.” Stated the cat.

Herbert knew anger. Herbert knew desperation. If this was some kind of joke, he would tear this animal apart with relish. But then, it was not a normal beast at all, was it? “What?” was the only thing he could blurt out, his gaze focused on the cat, his eyes pleading.

“I believe we can save him.” The cat slowly said, as its placed a paw on the count’s chest. “We all know that a vampire only becomes completely dead when they’re staked. Right into the heart.” It gave the man’s wound a careful look and nodded, confidence grew over its face, “I can assure you that all of his organs remain intact, including his heart. He did form a shield, didn’t he? So that witch’s spell was just strong enough to… hmm, how to explain it…”

“Speaking blankly, the witch merely kicked your father’s soul off his body.” Koroviev piped in, his face grave despite the joking content in his sentence.

“Shall we perform a ritual to bring him back, then?” The cat went on, which lit up a tiny light in the vampires’ now dull eyes. But Koroviev stammered. He protested:

“I… I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Koroviev.”

“It’s beyond my power.”

“Koroviev!”

“It’s beyond my rights.”

“Koroviev, since when that you’ve started to live by the rules?” The cat cheekily cocked its head as it got to its hind legs again. “Don’t make excuses with me, not after all we’ve been through!”

“We are not allowed to meddle in matters of life and death!”

“Who says we’re meddling in?” The cat growled, its patience grew thin. “He is not dead yet, we’ll just simply help him wake up more quickly!”

“But…”

“If you don’t want to involve in this then leave me. I can handle this whole thing alone. Break the spell that the witch cast on me first and stay out of this if you desire.”

So saying, the cat faced Herbert again. The viscount had stopped weeping, so did the other men, which was such a relief. Placing one tender paw on Herbert’s cheek, the cat stroke him, comforting the young man with its promise to save his father, as a repay for rescuing it before. Overwhelmed with emotions, Herbert scooped the cat into his arms and nuzzled it in a tight embraced as he started to sniff again. The cat purred, before glaring at Koroviev, its eyes determined, and it made the man’s throat dry. If it intended to make a real demon be gnawed up by guilt, then it had succeeded.

“So, are you in or not?”

“Fine.” Subsided, Koroviev huffed a hard breath out. He mumbled, “I’ll help. Who do you think you are to work alone.”

Despite the man distressing look, the cat knew its friend was genuinely willing to lend a hand.

 


	24. The Door To Your Mind

The moon had risen high, her shafts pierced through the darkness, painting Herbert’s room in pale silver light. Everything was quiet, just as what the ritual needed right now. Lightened up some candles and placed them carefully on the nightstand that was put between two armchairs, Herbert settled him down, trying to relax in his seat. On the other chair, Lord Afanas was doing the same. On the stool by the window, sat Alfred, an old watch in his hand. He was not allowed to join in this journey for his own sake, according to Koroviev, because his mind was not ready. For now, it was keeping track of the time and guarding their bodies Alfred’s had-to-do.

Although Koroviev and the black cat – its name was Beghemot, they learned – were all demons from hell, which rose caution and reluctance in both Herbert and Lord Afanas, they’d proved to be harmless enough, and the situation at hand was too desperate for anyone to doubt at all. The armchairs were placed opposite the bed where Koroviev sat, Beghemot in his lap laying lazily. From now on, Koroviev would be their guide, while Beghemot would be their guard on the other side.

“Let me know once you’re ready.” Spoke Koroviev.

“Can I ask something?” Alfred gently piped in, nibbling on his thumbnails in a nervous manner. At Koroviev’s approval, he continued, “Don’t all vampires have no souls? Since we never catch any sight of our shadows or reflection. How could you really bring the count’s soul back like you said?”

“A good question, Alfred, but I’m afraid that theory only applies to the very first generations of vampires, or may I say, your ancestors, for their souls would reign in hell. Speaking shortly, those vampires who used to be humans like you all here, each has a soul. It’s only that the links between your souls and the human world had been broken, while the souls themselves, in fact, remained.”

“Yes yes yes, rooms in Hell are not infinite…” The cat popped its head up to interrupt with a coarse tone, just to receive an immediate knock on the head by Koroviev.

“Therefore, vampires cannot see their reflections in a normal human mirror. If you wanted to, I could show you a devil one. My friend Ghella, who is also a vampire, loves to use it whenever she puts on her makeup.”

Alfred rounded his eyes at the information and nodded. Once this whole thing was done, he would ask to borrow that devil mirror. It had been so long since he last saw his own face. Clasping his hands together, Koroviev paused for a short brief moment, then went on, “I’m willing to explain more to you when we have more time. For now,” He lean forwards, crushing his stomach onto the cat by accident that made it wiggle, “Are you ready?” He asked the men.

Lord Afanas and Herbert nodded.

“May I remind you, since my power and rights to bring you straight to Krolock’s soul is limited, I’ll only be able to help you to your clues. It’s you yourselves who have to use them to find the right paths.” Koroviev’s voice was serious, “During your journey, you would come across many forms of Krolock. Some from the past, some from the present, and some are his emotions. I advice you to avoid the ones from the future as much as possible, for the sake of our sanity. And most importantly,” He cleared his throat, emphasized, “always keep your eyes closed unless it’s my voice speaking. Never disobey my guide or Beghemot’s. Remember: the world between realms as well as the realms themselves are dangerous, and your minds are not always friends.”

Lord Afanas and Herbert listened carefully and agreed, while Herbert gulfed nothing in his dry throat. Unlike Count von Krolock, neither of the men had any experiences with supernatural creatures other than vampires and werewolves. Thus, they both shifted restlessly in their seats, when relaxation was like an object so luxury that even wealthy people like them could not afford. Like what Koroviev had told their eyes closed, their bodies slumped down into the armchairs as the demon’s words floated around their minds.

“You are standing at the entrance of a stretching corridor. The doors along two sides of it are countless. I want you to explore these doors and the rooms behind them. Describe by details for me all the things that you can see, hear, touch, and sense.”

At once, a mist appeared. It crept on their backs, threading its way to their fronts like a sneaky serpent. Once the cool breeze of it had vanished, despite their closed eyes, the men could see them standing at a gloomy corridor, its only light source was from the moon shone through the dome above. According to Koroviev, the corridor stood for the path he created for them to travel between realms, and awaited them behind those doors were the realms that no human was familiar with. The lord and the viscount observed the new world, then looked to a side. Beside them, stood a stranger. Herbert jumped.

“Afraid not. It’s Beghemot.”

Koroviev’s voice was soothing, and the viscount stared down at Beghemot. So, this was the cat’s true form. Beghemot could shape-shift, but the witch cursed him with some spell and the poor cat could not turn back to human for a while. Herbert blinked, watching the stranger with curiosity. It was a black cat no more, but was a boy at the age of fourteen with adorable plump cheeks and large green eyes. His hair was black like the darkest night, and he wore the same clothes of those pageboys from the Medieval times.

Slowly, the vampires and the page demon approached the first door. The wood it was made of was fragrant, bringing a sense of comfort that could make anyone reminisce of their beloved homes. Koroviev hummed in acknowledges at the men’s description, before a sudden noise came from inside. Pressing their ears to the door, they could hear children laughing.

“What…”

Herbert couldn’t help himself but blurt out a word of surprise, which was immediately cut off by a hush from Beghemot. “They can’t see us, but they can hear.” The page informed quickly, and the men froze their spines, uncertain what were the “they” that Beghemot referred to.

The first room was luminous thanks to the warm orange light from a big chandelier, decorated with simple yet colourful paintings on four walls. The bed was not too big, and the floor was flooded with toys. Apparently, this was a children bedroom.

As they entered the chamber, beside the bed, a little cot bed could be seen. A child at the age of two or three was chirping happily inside it, even though it was playing on its own. It seemed to pay no notice to the presence of strangers.

At first, Herbert thought that child was him, because of the name “Krolock” embroidered on its shirt, and also of its active and playful nature. But then, he shook his head. The child’s hair was jet black while Herbert’s had the colour of blond so bright that it almost turned into platinum, and unlike Herbert’s hazel orbs, its eyes had the impossibly vivid shade of blue.

Herbert knelt down beside the cot and watched the child. It was a boy, probably, because of the way it dressed, but then, it could also be a tomboy, he was not sure. Herbert had always loved to have a sprightful baby sibling like this. He sighed, how the child babbled its songs made him smile for a little while. “Who could you be?” Herbert thought to himself at the face so familiar, yet the viscount could not recognize it no matter how hard he attempted. He didn’t remember meeting any child like this before, or any relatives that might look like this.

The creaking sound of the bed chamber door forced them all on their feet. A lady – a mother, or a nurse, perhaps – stepped in, and the three of them had to make their way out, back to the large corridor before they could cause any undesired noises.

The first room was the realm of beautiful memories, and even Beghemot himself was surprised that they tumbled into a Krolock member at the first place, because usually, things in the realms liked to merged into each other, creating a quite chaotic world if one was careless. It was far too easy for a beginning, the men agreed. And they were not wrong. When they moved to the next door, it stuck. It was made of cold stone, forcing much more strength from a man to turn the handle, but no matter how much the vampires tried, it never moved one bit. Even their attempts to decode the unearthly symbols carved on it were no use.

“That door is locked. Search through your pockets, may there be a key.” Koroviev’s voice rang. But none of them found any keys or such. The demon chuckled, “Then you are either not yet ready or allowed to access this room. Let’s move to the third door.”

“What about this one?” Herbert asked, voice soft like a whisper.

“Just don’t forget it.”

Their journey went on just like that, opening a door, checking, then leaving. Some doors only led to vacant rooms or endless oasis, which was confusing and took the men so much time wondering what they meant. There came a door led them to a tower, and a figure dashed down the stairs. The vampires could never figure out who it was, because the shadow’s form was jiggling as it kept running up and down in a loop, and Beghemot had to haul all of them out before distant cries manipulated their minds and trapped them there forever.

No matter how many doors they’d explored, they still hadn’t found Count von Krolock.

“The incarnations of emotions.”

Koroviev explained when groaning grunted from the ground below, and a giggling shadow snooped around them before merging into a wall nearby. “They are harmless, only a bit annoying. Keep going.”

It was so fortunate that ever since the second door, they hadn’t met any more door which was left locked.

Herbert suddenly faltered at his next stop for no reason. A strange breeze swept across him that made all his hair stand on end when his hand touched the iron knob. Worry was obvious in the other man’s eyes as well, as the man pressed his lips into a thin line and stared at Herbert, frowning. Koroviev assured:

“Believe in your intuition. You don’t need to open it right now, just remember return to it.”

If Herbert had more time, probably he would totally agree with Koroviev’s suggestion and move on. But then, for now he could not let his father wait. He was so unsure of what had happened to his soul all this times, and what would happen afterwards. The idea of his father waiting for him in any kind of torture was unbearable. Therefore, in a second, Herbert had found his hand turning the knob.

 


	25. Truth (Part 1)

The vampires and the page demon stumbled into a large hall. Everything looked spacious and dusty. Either the owner had left and abandoned this building, or the new one had just arrived for no long time. Herbert frowned. Somehow, he could never find this place foreign, but in fact, it gave him nostalgia of a peaceful time. Until he paid careful attention to the chandelier and the giant piano near the window as well as the spiral stairs over there did Herbert realize, he was standing in his own home. The ball room of the Krolock castle, many, many years ago.

Since when they didn’t know, in the middle of the hall, appeared two people. At first, they were nothing more than a delusion, transparent like phantoms in legends of urban areas. But as Lord Afanas and Herbert came closer, they become clearer, and at last, two people in flesh and blood. A man and a boy. The boy seemed to be much younger than Beghemot, but was a little too tall for his age. The man gently took hold of the boy’s hands and slowly, he taught him how to dance. It didn’t take Herbert much time to realize, that little boy was him. And the man, of course, was his father, many, many years ago.

“Father?”

Before Beghemot could protest, Herbert had blurted out a whisper. The man looked up. Now it all dawned on Herbert, the child behind the first door was no one but the count. Herbert opened his mouth in aghast. He didn’t realize that his father had changed so much, and he blamed himself for it. As he approached closer, the sight of his younger father was too much for the viscount to bear, and in a blink of an eye the young man could feel his eyes hurt again, though this time no tears was falling. Oh how he missed his father, and also the times when they were close like this.

Then, out of a sudden, the count winced. He knelt down by his son, hands came up to clutch his head, as if he had sensed something. Knowing that father and son could still share their minds, Lord Afanas was quick to pull Herbert back, distanced them a few good meters. The count’s gaze focused on the strangers, but his eyes narrowed like he was actually seeing through them. With fright built up in his gaze, he scooped little Herbert in his arms and hurried away, soon disappeared into darkness.

.

.

Herbert had run.

The viscount remembered following his father through some dark halls, but once the man vanished behind a column, Herbert was left alone. As if the man had steamed off into the air or something. Believed in his good memory, the viscount headed back to where he began, at last deciding not to waste more time in this realm. But then, he could only bump into the column he just marked. “The paths have been looped…” Herbert thought, hearing his heart pump harder than ever. No one was in sight, not Beghemot, not Lord Afanas. Herbert had got lost in the maze of corridors with no escape.

“Beghemot? Sir Afanas? Koroviev?” Herbert called out, looking up the ceiling for any signs. But responded him was only silence and darkness. Even his echoes were muffled by the void itself.

A figure ran by.

Herbert chased it. It stopped at a strange door that was not there before, and Herbert, didn’t mind the risk might be awaiting him, sneaked through the door before the figure slammed it shut completely.

.

.

Lord Afanas was certain that he had followed right by the man’s heels. But God knew why, when he turned left, he faced a dead end. In front of him now stood a stone wall, hard and unmovable, and it didn’t show any evidence of crack no matter how violently he struck. But as he looked closer, he could notice, it was a door in disguise, the rough surface of it had tricked people’s mind into not seeing the key hole. Like the locked door, it was carved with tons of unexplainable symbols, but this time when Lord Afanas searched through his pockets, he found a key. 

Only at this moment did the lord realize he was alone. Herbert had gone lost, and Beghemot was nowhere in sight. He went reluctant, wondering whether he should enter the room, or return to his path to find the other two. Either choice would lead him to give up the other, his feet moved restlessly, and he hated it. Then, a scream from the other side of the door made him jump, forcing him to hurry to put the key into the key hole.

A massive bed chamber was what Lord Afanas stumbled into. It had the design of the 15th century, with floor covered with smooth crimson velvet carpet. Pungent smell of candles soothed his nerves, waves of calmness washed over him as he composed himself and inhaled deeply. But then, his nose caught the smell of something else. It was vague, but foul, yet so tempting. Something smelled like… blood.

On the four-poster bed placed in the center, settled two men. One was embracing the other in his firm grip. Streams of red liquid was pouring slowly down the neck of the younger one, staining his shirt, while his eyes rolled white and his body couldn’t help shaking. But he never show any sign of wanting to struggle or run away. He just endured in the older man’s arms, until he had done sucking and dropped him down on the mattress like a worn out doll. The older man cast him a blank smirk, exposing his bloody fangs, before he turned into whirls of smoke and soon vanished into thin air.

A deafening thunder rumbled, dragging with it the wind so strong that blew open the window and snuffed out all the candles in the room. Rain started to poured cats and dogs, heavy enough to become a storm. The sky was pit black, the moon had hidden behind thick coats of clouds. Slowly, Lord Afanas approached the bed side and knelt, watching the young man attentively. Despite the spreading darkness, Lord Afanas could still see as clearly as the moon. The man was no one but the count of Krolock.

_How could I ever forget your face…_

Lord Afanas sighed. He never thought Krolock would ever look so desperate and fragile like this. His eyelids were half-closed and his lips were mumbling inaudible words, his teeth were clashing into each other while escaped from his throat were painful moans. He trembled like a weak leaf as his head turned to one side, baring his bleeding neck. He was still a human, if his wound kept being exposed like this, he would lose all his blood and die!

With no hesitation Lord Afanas climbed on the bed and pressed his mouth against the man’s skin. He had to do this, in order to save his life. Hands kept the man’s head in place, gently, Afanas started to lick. The smell of fresh blood at once invaded his nose and its taste tingled his tongue, tempted him to drink, to succumb to satisfaction. But he restrained, grimaced as his fangs started to itch. He smiled in relief when the wound began to heal and blood stopped dripping, for the man didn’t bother to protest, and his breath had slowed down.

Lord Afanas never regretted taking advance to place on the man’s neck a tender kiss.

“Who… who is it?”

The man moaned no more, but his voice was still weak and broken. Fright was still inside him, he sat up and darted his eyes across the room, but couldn’t see anyone because of darkness.

“A good friend.” Lord Afanas’s voice was deep and dulcet, “Even though I dearly wish us to be something more than that.” He smiled, decided to let those words slip from his lips anyways. The man wouldn’t understand, at least not now, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. The man tensed, remembering what had happened and brought his palms to his neck.

“So it was not a dream.” He gasped, “The blood… Did you just…”

“Yes.”

“T-Thank you…”

Lord Afanas’s amicable laugh could be heard vibrating in the air, and the man’s tension slowly slipped away. After a while thinking, the lord asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, what put you into this situation?”

“Should I ever tell you.” The man’s face fell as he muttered, knees brought up to his chest.

“I don’t know.” Lord Afanas shrugged, coming to sit on the bed next to the man. He flinched at the shifting of the mattress at first, but somehow decided to stay put anyway. Afanas went on, “I will not make you if you do not wish to. But keep in mind, I’m willing to help at any time.”

“Help.” The man snorted, which gave the other man much surprise for his sudden change in emotions. “At this moment I don’t know what help could actually **help** me anymore.”

“Oh dear, what happened?”

“It’s…” The man chuckled, mumbling to himself something Lord Afanas couldn’t comprehend. They both sighed. Lord Afanas wouldn’t mind, he understood if the man chose to keep his secrets to himself. But then, shaking his head, the man finally confessed, “It’s my wife. She is… sick, bed ridden. We’ve lost tracks of time how long she’s been suffering. I called for the best of the best doctors, but… nothing worked.” His voice began to break again, and he hid his face away as his attempt to collect himself didn’t succeed. At once point he sniffed, and Lord Afanas had no difficulty knowing that he was weeping, his body shook after each of his hiccups, “I… I had no choices. All the doctors told me that she wouldn’t make it, and she would…”

His words left on trail and he burst into tears, curling himself as he sat on the bed like a trembling armadillo. Afanas had never seen Krolock unravel like this before. It was distressful.

Wrapping a soothing arm over the man’s shoulders, Lord Afanas’s palms rubbed his triceps up and down. The man shuddered, but lean to the touch, as if it was the only comfort he could find at this moment. “Come back to her.” It was all the lord could say.

“I can’t.” The man shivered when a cold wind blew by. “The ritual isn’t completed yet.”

“Ritual?” Lord Afanas frowned, and now he understood why there was an old vampire present in this room before. The man nodded.

“I’m not turned yet. Into a vampire, I mean. You may say I’m insane if you like, I don’t…”

“I believe you.” Lord Afanas cut off. It eased the man’s anxiety a little bit, and he went on:

“Once it’s done, I’ll return to her. I… I will turn her. Just like me.” He whispered, but his whispers were hoarse, raw and broke like broken glass as he came to sob, “Oh God please forgive me…” His hands clutched his head as he moaned, “I have to save her, whatever it takes! I never wanted to be like this!”

He burst into tears once more.

 

|To be continued|

 


	26. Truth (Part 2)

Herbert found himself standing in a sick room. Not much was placed in it, except a medicine cabinet, a set of table and chairs, and a bed. The man who Herbert just followed inside was no one but his father, though he looked even younger than the one Herbert met at the hall. Father was sitting by the bed, hands seizing the person laying’s. Despite the smile formed on his lips, his eyes were showing obvious sorrow. On the bed, lay a woman. She was beautiful. Her hair draped elegantly across her shoulders and bright the colour of bright blond just like Herbert’s. When Herbert got nearer to have a better look, he could find that she also had the same almond hazel eyes as him. She was young, but the dark rings under her eyes made her seem exhausted, and her skin was so pitifully pale. 

For now, Herbert had known, she was his mother.

Herbert was still a baby when he was forced to leave his mother’s side, all reminded him of her was an old family painting that had faded a part. Repressing a gasp of overwhelmed feelings, Herbert slowly approached the bed and knelt down, resting his chin on the back of his hand as he gave his mother a long, loving gaze. He heard his mother said she wanted to meet him.

_I am right by your side…_

Herbert dearly wished to whispered those words to her. But then, he couldn’t.

Herbert felt his eyes wet again.

.

.

“What’s your name?”

The man decided to break the ice after an enduring while waiting for nothing. Lord Afanas hadn’t breathed a word to him ever since he told about his plight, thus the men just sat there in compatible silence. Lord Afanas admitted that his heart twisted, but all he could do was sitting by him, looking at him.

“Why would you want to know?”

“I can’t see you. Am I not even allowed to know how to address my savior?”

“Dear friend, it doesn’t matter.” He softly chuckled, “I go by many names. Calling me your friend is all I want. But what about you? What is **your** name?” He teased, thinking of how interesting it would be to have his favourite man introduce himself like the first time they met. Besides, perhaps he would get to know the man’s given name.

“Me? I’m Count von Krolock.”

“No, no. I ask for a given name, not a family one or a title.”

“Oh, it’s…”

The man stammered, then went silent.  

Just like that, his words stuck inside his throat and panic began to prick inside him. Lord Afanas had no clue why he took so much time thinking of a thing he should have known best like that, while the man just kept mussing up his hair and rocking himself back and forth in a manner so nervous.

“Can’t you even remember your own name?” Now it was Lord Afanas who concerned. The man only shook his head and heaved a long sigh. He pressed his knees tighter to his chest as he hugged himself.

“He took it away.”

“Who?”

“The one who turned me. My sire.” His voice was small and meek like the meow of a cat, as if he was afraid the walls had ears. “He said… he liked my name, so he would keep it. Honestly, I didn’t understand what that meant. Until now. Now I realize I’ve forgot it.” He lowered his head, mumbling for a few seconds. “It’s just on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t quite get the full of it.”

Even though he could see no one in the engulfing darkness, the man still looked up at the void in front of his eyes and spoke. He curled up no more, but crawled to kneel on the bed, back straight, hands placed on his thighs. Boldly, he asked, “Can you help me find it, please?”

“I will try my best.” Lord Afanas moved to face the man directly. His skeletal hands touched the man’s, which made him flinch because of the rough cold skin. Warm blood under lively skin brought Lord Afanas displeasure no less, he gulfed hard and tried to focus only on the man’s face. “Worry not. I will help you.” He promised, not sure why he sounded so determined. He gave the man’s shoulder an assuring grip. “For now, rest.” He said, and with a farewell pat on the man’s cheek, he soon disappeared.

The cold wind was still blowing when the man was left alone in the darkness. There was no strength left inside him to walk away from the bed to close the window, so he just sat there, wrapping his arms around himself before reaching for a blanket. Suddenly, he felt something creeping on his skin. It brought no eerie feelings, just itchy, caused by a tiny, vibrant creature of nature. A butterfly to his aghast, which was heavenly pretty. It was strange to see one in a stormy night like this. It was no night butterfly, because its wings shone the colours of rainbow. The man had never seen such a butterfly before.

“You are his sign, aren’t you?” The man smiled at the odd insect. “Guess I have to trust you, then. I will wait.”

At that moment, the butterfly flapped its wings and flew away, soon vanished into the night sky.

.

.

Herbert followed his parents to a nearby green field, since mother said she wished to see the sun rise. The night sky had turned purple, clear with no trace of cloud. The grass was soft and rattling under their feet. Herbert’s gaze never left his parents, though he only dared to stood from a distance away, watching his father hold mother in his arms, hands come to brush her hair, and loving whispers murmur into her ears. That father loved mother dearly. Herbert had always believed in it. But ever since what happened last night, he wished he could believe once more.  

Mother looked so frail in father’s arms, her head rested on his shoulder. Whatever illness his mother had to suffer, Herbert cursed it for tormenting her and preventing him from seeing her again. Then, Herbert heard his father’s voice. That father would save her. That mother would live, and live forever with him. Herbert’s mind all at once flicked of a time in the past when he was as well desperate, fragile like a broken glass statue in his father’s embrace just like this. He was only eighteen at that time, yet he was wounded, fatally wounded, his body was shaky and was about to crumbled into pieces. Herbert had pled his father back then, to turn him into an immortal, so he could be by his side till eternity. Father was never able to refuse him.

By that, Herbert had understood everything. He had thought wrong of his father.

Came what may, and Herbert had to cover his mouth to muffle his painful sobs. His mother was struggling under his father’s hands, but her strength was scanty. Her scream was nothing more than a weak moan, and soon, it stopped. Just like that, she went numb in his father’s arms. Blood was everywhere, staining their clothes, dripping from the chin and fell onto the grass. Unlike Herbert, his mother lay there motionless in a long time. His father gently lifted her hand, hoping for a beating pulse. But all he did was gasping, before he hugged her in a tight embraced and cried.

The sight in front of Herbert’s eyes began to blur and fade with the colour of crimson red. His eyes were all wet and closed tight, until he found himself floating in the nothingness between realms, and a familiar voice called out his name. He swam toward that voice, panicked when he felt claws scratching his bare skin. A loud “pop” followed by a throbbing burn landed on his face, and in a second the world was plunged into total darkness.

Herbert went wide awake by Alfred’s slap.

 


	27. Woland

The moment Lord Afanas got out of the room, an oppressive darkness sank over him. He swallowed hard, willing his nerves to settle as his night vision concentrated on the weak light. Freezing air washed over the back of his neck when he made his way out, in his mind imprinted a map that could lead him back here afterwards – if he ever had a chance to. Lord Afanas breathed out a sigh of relief when Koroviev’s voice rang again, guided him back to the large corridor. The demon didn’t clearly say what had happened to Herbert and Beghemot, in order to save time, but he assured that both of them were safe and sound. It partly eased the lord’s worry, and he quickly went on his way.

The end of the corridor stopped his paces. At last, only one more door to explore. Anxiety began to crawled under his skin as he wondered what kind of danger could be waiting on the other side, but immediately, he shrugged his thoughts off. Now it was not a time for reluctance, he reminded himself. There was nothing like malice seemed to radiate from the door. Still, carefully, Lord Afanas pressed his ear on it.

There was no sound, not even the tiniest one.

Lord Afanas creaked open the door. Light that bright enough to make him squint took its advantage to pour through the slit, welcomed him, just like the tranquil, ethereal land that soon appeared in front of his eyes, which made him think that he had enter the world of gods. Before him lazily lay a river, surrounded with thick blankets of trees on both its side. Built over that river was a bridge, and alas, it was weaved from branches and creepers. The lively light was from the shining round moon above, bringing strong illumination throughout the whole land and to the tiniest cracks.  

Lord Afanas frowned, cautiously placed a hand on his dagger, for in the middle of the bridge, stood a man. He had long platinum hair, so long that even though he had tied it into a pony tail, it still almost touched the branches under his feet. He wore black armor that shone, with laps of dress draped elegantly along his sides. By his waist, there was a sword. Lord Afanas narrowed his eyes. It looked exactly like the sword that the witch had used!

Slowly, the man turned around. At once, Koroviev’s voice sneaked into Lord Afanas’s mind, urging him onto his knees and only stare at the ground beneath. When he could see footsteps approaching him, Lord Afanas repeated what Koroviev had just told him:

“Greeting, Woland the Almighty God of the Devil.”

“Very well. Stand up.”

Lord Afanas simply obliged.

As he stood facing Woland, the vampire lord was taken aback, because as a demon god, Woland actually didn’t look so terrifying like what he had always imagined. The man did have that powerful aura around him, obviously was and would forever be in the prime that even the finest human had to look up to, but beside that, he seemed to be quite down-to-earth, amicable, or at least the gentle features on his face said so. Except his eyes. From only a glance Lord Afanas could already see Woland’s right eye was black, lifeless with a strange tiny red dot like a spark waiting to burst into flame, while his left eye, for some reason, was green, full of madness. The sight of those orbs made the fine hair of him stand up and he cringed. The lord was grateful that he didn’t have to stare straight into them. 

“I never mean to intrude.” Lord Afanas explained with no hesitation, and Woland cast him an expectant look. “I came here to find the truth.”

“Messir.” Koroviev reminded.

“Messir.” Lord Afanas added.

“And what is that truth you are looking for?” Woland gave Lord Afanas a pleasant nod.

“The truth about Count von Krolock…messir.”

Woland drawled out an “ah” in acknowledges. Soft laughs of interest echoed, while the demon god paced around with his sword used as a cane. Making a face of thinking, he spoke:

“It seems that my retinue have been willing to help you all along, haven’t they?” He looked up at the sky, voice rang like distant thunder abruptly rumbled behind clouds in a beautiful day, “I’m impressed. Koroviev!” He called, making the other demon yelp, “From now on, let me lend a hand to help this gentleman.”

A cracked voice sputtered, “But messir, it would be…”

“You’ve worked hard. It was my prisoner herself who wrecked on them such tragedy. Therefore, I will take care of this.” Woland’s words were loud and distinct as he knocked his sword hard on the ground. Knowing that it was a real firm order, Koroviev only mumbled in obligation, then snuffed out like a candle.

Turning back to Lord Afanas, Woland chuckled:

“I see that you’ve gone this far and overcome lots of things. Hmm…But even dared to interrupt the timeline? You do have guts.” He narrowed his eyes like a cat and lowered his voice.

“I believe it was the right thing to do, messir. If that unwise act of this humble person has changed the reality of present and angered the mighty lords, then I accept my consequences. But messir, please grant me a grace to fulfill my mission first.”

Much to Lord Afanas’s surprise, Woland only tilted backwards as he barked a laugh and shook his head. “What a rare noble heart.” He praised, circling the other man, “But I have good news for you. Since you were wise enough not to reveal yourself, the present is intact. You won’t have to go under any judgements, dear Afanas.”

Lord Afanas gulfed, “I’m grateful…”

“But then,” Woland’s brows were knitted in thoughts, “What truth about Count von Krolock are you looking for?”

“It’s his real name.” Lord Afanas was honest, “It seems that someone has erased it from his memory, and I promised to help him find it.”

“I see. Then do you know who took his name away?”

“His sire is the most notable of his kind, it would be ridiculous if I ever not knew who he is.”  Lord Afanas’s teeth somehow clenched as he spoke, disdainfully. Boldly, he went on with a question, “But do I have to confront him to get my answer?”

“Oh, of course not! I’m just asking!” Woland chuckled, light glittered in his green eye. He stopped pacing, his dress whirled around after him, “The name is Johannes.” His voice stern.

“Johannes von Krolock.”

Lord Afanas mumbling the name repeatedly inside his head, promising to himself to never cast it into oblivion. He beamed with gratitude as he gave endless thanks to Woland, while the demon god’s expression was simply full of amusement. To Lord Afanas’s confuse, Woland unleashed his sword from his belt and handed it to him.

“Take it. You will soon need it.” Woland offered his weapon with an approving smile.

“But messir… this sword…”

“You are afraid because it’s made of silver, am I right?” Woland smirked, yet a smirk that didn’t show anything near scorn. However, it still made Lord Afanas cringe, and the man stared down at his restless feet again. “Just take it.” Insisted Woland, “You will be alright. Once you’ve done, it will return to me on its own.”

Slowly, Lord Afanas reached out his hands to receive the sword, with respect his body bent down with a bow. Just like what Woland said, his palms didn’t hurt at all when rough skin touched silver, the metal of the sharp blade was cool and smooth as Lord Afanas traced his fingers on it with awe in his eyes. Nodded firmly, the lord shoved the blade into its sheath and placed it carefully by his belt. 

“Go find your Krolock. For this moment, I’m on your side.”

In a blink of an eye, Lord Afanas had found him standing right in front of the stone door at the dead end. Beyond the threshold, it was pitch black. The sound of the storm outside the window was still deafening. Approaching the bed, Lord Afanas could see that the young man had slept, his trembling body curled into a ball under the blanket in a pitiful sight. So vulnerable.

The man jumped in alarm and turned sharply when Lord Afanas’s hand came to brush his hair, waking him up.

“Afraid not. It’s me.”

The man’s voice was still shaking, “Oh. You came back.”

“And I have good news for you.” Lord Afanas announced, and couldn’t help himself he hopped onto the bed, giving it a large creak and the mattress sank, forcing to man to jolt up onto his knees. With pure excitement Lord Afanas beamed, “I’ve found your name.”

“You have?” The man’s tension at once ebbed away, his eyes stared attentively into the void before him. His mouth moved. “Thank you!” He finally managed, “What… What is it?”

Lord Afanas giggled. But he didn’t answer right away. Slowly, he shifted closer, and the man, for some reason, closed his eyes when he felt the stranger’s knees touched his. Lord Afanas squared his shoulders, words spilling out of him:

“Your name is Johannes. Johannes von Krolock.”

“Johannes.” The young man repeated. Soon, a slight smile grew on his face. Could restrain no more, Lord Afanas reached out his hand to stroke the man’s face, gently caressing him, which made him shudder at the cold touch of the invisible force. Then softly, the lord said:

“Promise me, that you will never forget it, and will never let your sire know that you’ve got it back from him.”

“Yes…” The young man nodded, “I promise.”

At the man’s whisper, the room gradually turned into illusion, the edges of everything came indistinct and waved in the weak light like fog, blanketed Lord Afanas in an eerie sensation. Once the mist had melt, Lord Afanas was once again in the path that Herbert and he had shared earlier. On his waist placed the silver sword of Woland, and in his hand…

There was a key.

The key was made of stone, heavy, its handle carved with tiny symbols he couldn’t comprehend. Lord Afanas frowned for a second, and then his eyes blown wide.

He ran back to the other end of the corridor.

 


	28. Real Or Not?

Fear twisted in Lord Afanas’s chest and he faltered when the door he’d left before swung opened. A poisonous, oppressive feeling washed over him, tainted the whole space yet tugging him from the back of his mind, and soon the lord had found himself enter an abandoned wing. 

There were no lanterns, but somehow Lord Afanas found some unused torches. He fumbled through his pockets to reach for a handy match, and in a flick a flame was summoned. However, it flickered weakly though there was no wind at all. In the end all Afanas could manage was a wisp of light, strange shadows cast on the stone walls. “Guess I have to work with this, then.” He muttered under his breath as he gave up torching up the flame. Of course the vampire lord was able to see in the dark, he just wanted to see clearly what he was getting himself into.

A pale shape appeared and faded at the edge of Lord Afanas’s peripheral vision. Intangible touches and whispers drifted over his shoulders, but the words were so faint that he couldn’t figure them out. He turned sharply, just to see he was alone. “Show yourself whoever you are!” Afanas shouted, but all responded him was the echoes of his own voice and the sound of his heart hammering in his chest.

Lord Afanas walked on, enduring the deafening silence.

The wing seemed to stretch endlessly, but then to one point it separated into two corridors that lay parallel. At the end of each corridor stood a door. Lord Afanas believed he could have sweat out of stress, his throat bobbing dryly as he inhaled the iron scent lingered in the air. His feet paced around, uncertain which was the right door, or which should he enter first.

Thumping started to rang from the door on the left, forcing Lord Afanas to jump in alarm. Violent, impatient. Of course, it gave him a threatening feel, and the man decided to head to the door on the right. As he got nearer and nearer, the slamming sound over there grew more and more desperate, until when the vampire lord seized the door knob, it turned into a screech that shrill and scorching gust of hot wind whipped through the whole space, snuffed out his torch completely. It was also that moment Lord Afanas plunged himself into total darkness.

The lord thought he had fallen. But then, he was still on his two feet, eyes blinking repeatedly to adjust to the dim light. This place didn’t make any sense, he thought to himself. It was nothing but an empty void with a floating door, yet invisible but solid ground could be felt under his weight. As he turned around, sudden arms came to wrap around his neck, welcomed him.

“Lord Afanas!”

A familiar voice exclaimed, and Lord Afanas had no difficulty realizing he was holding the count of Krolock. Immediately he returned the embrace with enthusiasm, gasping when his mind tried to process if this was truly reality.

“I’ve found you!” Lord Afanas cried with relish, as his hands now restrained no more came to cup the other man’s face, stroking it fondly. This was not merely a dream, it was a nightmare that had come to an end. Everything felt so real, and the lord had to bit back a drop of happy tear.

Count von Krolock was no colder than that. He smiled brightly that his eyes narrowed, his hands gently caressed the other man’s cheeks. They stared into each other’s gazes for a while, and to one point Lord Afanas couldn’t help a whisper, “Johannes…”

“Johannes?”

Count von Krolock’s smile abruptly faded. He cocked his head, questioning.

“Yes.” Lord Afanas nodded with a mixture of happiness and pride, “I’ve found your true name. It’s Johannes. Johannes von Krolock, don’t you remember?”

Count von Krolock seemed to lost tracks of words. He averted his eyes, frowning, but the grimace in no long time was replaced with another grin. Lord Afanas was too happy to realize anything fishy at all, so he believed it when the count replied, “Of course! I owe you!”

“Let’s just come home. Everyone is waiting for you!”

Lord Afanas urged, couldn’t wait to get out of this hellish world as soon as possible – even though when he was a creature of darkness as well. He grabbed Count von Krolock by his arm, tugging him, but for some reason, the count remained still. In fact, he was actually trying to pull Lord Afanas towards him.

“Whatever is the matter? Let’s go.” Lord Afanas asked, surprised, “Is there anything troubles you?”

“During my time here I’ve been wondering…” Count von Krolock trailed on his words, his eyes dreamy as if he was thinking of an unknown land far away, “would you be by my side no matter where I am?”

“Oh Johannes you need to rest once we’ve come back.” Lord Afanas chuckled, “Of course I will!”

“Then, stay here with me.”

Lord Afanas’s orbs blown wide, and his jaw dropped. Was Johannes…out of his mind? Count von Krolock, despise his sense of humor, would never bring up a joke like this, Lord Afanas knew. “What?” is all he could manage. No matter how willing he was to stay with the other man, he was exhausted, he didn’t want to kill any more time.

“Isn’t it much better for you to stay here with me?” Count von Krolock smiled as he spoke, and his smile sent shivers down Lord Afanas’s spine. “No one will find us here. There’ll be two of us. Alone. Together.” The corner of his lips curled up into a wolfish smirk, “Isn’t it what you’ve always been dreaming of?”

“Johannes, what happened?”

“Ain’t I right?” Count von Krolock’s look was daring.

“N-No, you got it wrong!” Lord Afanas sputtered, panic began to hammer inside his core, “We both have to get out of this dreadful place!”

“Why?”

Count von Krolock smiled again, now exposed both of his fangs. For the devil’s sake, that smile! Lord Afanas couldn’t bear it, not in the positive way. He reasoned, “Of course for Herbert, and your other fledglings. They’re your family!”

“Haven’t I spent enough time for them?” Count von Krolock shrugged, and now it dawned on Lord Afanas that he had made a very, very bad choice. He yanked off Krolock’s arm, and shaking his head, he snarled:

“You are not Krolock.”

All at once, the man before Lord Afanas twisted and turned into a distorted smoky phantom, the edges of his form indistinct and waved frantically in the frail light. Lord Afanas could feel the weight of his gaze, the echo of his searing hunger when the phantom lunged at him at horrible speed. The lord successfully dodged, and hurried to make his way to the door. He could hear howls chasing him as he dashed across the corridors, but vampires were no slow runners at all. By the time he reached the door on the left, the phantom was shrieking like a banshee behind the right door that Lord Afanas had just slammed shut.

Mingled with the screams was the earlier stubborn thumping. Without any further thinking, Lord Afanas nudged the door before him, but right at the moment it swung opened, a figure from inside dashed out, crashing into him and they both flew a good distance, collapsing on the floor. Lord Afanas winced at the impact and the weight burdened on his chest, suffocating him.

“Count von Krolock!”

Lord Afanas called out at the sight of the man laying upon him. The count only nodded, before leaping to a side and hit the phantom which was flying towards them with a loud thud. As if he had a real body of flesh and blood, the phantom whirled around Count von Krolock like a giant serpent, squeezing him, while the man battling with it unyieldingly. With one strike from the count the phantom was knocked down, crashing through the wooden floor and onto the ground of the below level. Count von Krolock wiped the blood smeared on his forehead, then plunged into the dark beneath to check on his enemy.

More battle cries thundered soon afterwards.

Knowing the count needed a hand, Lord Afanas jumped down the hole that they just created, into a battlefield of crumbles and dust. The vampire lord drew his sword. The clashing sound of metal on its sheath, for some reason, stopped the fight. Dust blanketed the whole place in its chalky colour, making it harder to see clearly anything. When things became clear, Lord Afanas was at lost.

In front of his eyes, stood two Counts von Krolock.

“Counterfeiter!”

The counts’ shouts were in chorus, full of rage as they circled each other and hissed, face twisted with obvious despise. They were just like two drops of water, similar from the grey hair to the features of their faces, clothes alike and their voices indistinguishable. No wonder he had mistaken them before, Lord Afanas thought.

In a second the two counts were at each other again. Lord Afanas rapidly elbowed himself between them, threatened to brandish his sword. Whimpers of displeasure could be heard as the men took in the sight of the silver weapon, and they retreated.

“Sir, you are getting in my way.” One Krolock said, eyes glared at his clone. But the clone was not easy to surrender, as he bit back:

“I am capable of ending this creature on my own, Lord Afanas.”

 _Sir. Lord Afanas_. The vampire lord was at lost again. He couldn’t distinguish who from who, since both the ways they addressed him were suffice. The other men stared at him expectantly, while Lord Afanas himself heaved a sigh, shaking his head. Yet, his voice determined, “Nobody will fight until I figure out who is the real Krolock.”

The counts grunted. But then, the image of the silver sword flickered in their glances, keeping them at bay for at least a few more minutes. Lord Afanas shoved his blade back to its sheath, eyes never left the counts as he observed them, and they cleared their throats, “As you insist. Tell me, what could I do to prove myself to be the original?”

“I believe asking something only the original knows could help?”

“It could.” Lord Afanas agreed, “What is your son’s name?” He blurted out without any pondering.

“Herbert.” Both Krolocks were quick. Lord Afanas scratched his head, cursing him for such a silly question. Of course any devils would know the viscount’s name. Chewing on his lips, he went on:

“We’ve been side by side for not a short time. So tell me, and please be honest, what am I like?”

The counts seemed to be taken aback by the question, because they stared at each other and then at Lord Afanas with something like perplexation in their eyes. Upon seeing the lord’s restless expression, taking in a deep breath, one of the counts sighed, “A hot headed, and impatient man…”

“And childish like my son.” The other piped in, chuckled.

Lord Afanas felt his guts churn at the disappointing truth he just heard. But then, neither of them was wrong, but none of them all was expecting that. Tapping his fingers on the handle of his weapon, Afanas happened to remember, and he drew his sword out again.

“This sword is made of silver. Whoever touches it without being burnt is definitely the counterfeiter.” He stated, holding out the blade. The two Krolocks went reluctant, staring at each other, then staring at him. Lord Afanas could even here one of them gulp, which was understandable.

At the lord’s encouraging look, one of the counts stepped forwards. He grasped the blade with his whole hand, and though his face was as cold as a coin, from his palm came the fizzing sound of roasted flesh. Lord Afanas nodded. Here came the other. This one didn’t seize the blade, but traced his fingers on it instead. Drops of dark blood slowly poured down from the sharp of the blade as his skin was burnt red as well.

Lord Afanas couldn’t believe his eyes.

_In the end what is it that only Krolock and he knows?_

“What’s in your pockets?” Lord Afanas raised his voice after a pause. “What?” was an evident respond. Didn’t need to explain, Lord Afanas insisted, “Just search through your pockets.”

The two counts obliged, while Lord Afanas thought he could have been sweating. Every single breath of his suddenly became painfully loud in his ears. If this way still unable to tell who from who, then Lord Afanas wouldn’t know if he could ever overcome this challenge.

After a while fumbling, one Krolock stated, “I have nothing.”

“And you?”

“There’s… a necklace.” Surprisingly, the other Krolock said, as he pulled out from his shirt pocket a rusty, silver-grey necklace. It left the clone’s eyes blown wide. With voice like a whisper, Krolock mumbled almost to himself, as his fingers caressed the ornament, “I thought I had lost it.”

“Now it’s all clear.” A smirk grew on Lord Afanas’s face, as he aimed his blade towards the false Krolock. “Show yourself!” 

The counterfeiter shrieked with wrath and he lunged at Lord Afanas in an infinite rage for being revealed, his form twisted once again into a phantom. Lord Afanas brandished his sword and slashed through him, leaving an unearthly howl that shook the whole room. With fight still inside his body, the phantom shape-shifted his edges into something like claws and attacked his enemy with fatal scratches. But before he could strike a second blow, he had been yanked backwards by an impossible force. Count von Krolock hauled him over his shoulders and into the air, letting him fly freely towards a nearby column, so hard that the pillar cracked, and the phantom fell flat with a thud, motionless.

“Thank you…” Lord Afanas gasped heavily when he faced the other man. Krolock just simply hid his smile, then turned his gaze back to where their enemy had landed.

He had vanished into thin air.

 

SWOOSH!

 

Hot wind whipped across him from behind, and Lord Afanas roared when something impaled his shoulder. Turning sharply, he had seen crimson eyes like embers flashed in the shadow, awaiting him, and in a second a stake was aiming at his chest. Swiftly like a bolt Lord Afanas moved aside, leading the phantom to trip and fall forwards. But the phantom was a thick skull. Regained his balance in no time, he rushed upon Lord Afanas again, before the man pierced his stomach with his blade, and he flailed wildly when Count von Krolock took charge of him.  

With a maniac laugh the phantom sneaked away from Count von Krolock’s grasp and bind him. The world in the count’s eyes turned upside down when he was hauled over a balcony and dropped like a discarded object. Lord Afanas’s orbs glowed red, bringing more fearsome feature to his bloody skin around his eyes when he approached his enemy from behind. But the phantom had sensed him first, and with a backhand slap Lord Afanas had sprawled on the floor.

Right when the phantom was about to climb on Lord Afanas, Count von Krolock was at him again. They collided into each other, and the count punched him mercilessly once they’d landed a few good meters away. The phantom growled when Count von Krolock bit his neck, but no blood poured, as if his body was like an empty vase. He wrestled with the count and soon turned the tide, the count tumbled in the air head over heels and crashed into Lord Afanas who was running to help him. They both collapsed.

“Ready to face Death?” The phantom laughed as he slowly approached the vampires. The stake on Lord Afanas’s shoulder just sank deeper into his flesh after their fall, blood was streaming down freely from his wound and he knew not how to get rid of it. Meanwhile, Krolock’s status was no better. His head knocked continually on hard ground and now Lord Afanas doubted if he could even lifted himself up.

“Death? We’re tired of his face.” Despite how tragic they looked, Lord Afanas snorted disdainfully, spitted blood out from his mouth.

Seizing the sword in his hand, Lord Afanas got on his feet. One more step closer of the enemy and he swung his blade, summoned all the strength he had left to end this whole thing once and for all. The phantom shape-shifted his edge again, this time into a similar sword, blocking Lord Afanas’s attack. Clashing sound of metal hitting metal rang in the air, each of them howled beastly after each time the blades cut through their flesh. Lord Afanas focused, attempted to aim his sword to his enemy’s heart, but the throbbing wound on his shoulder kept pulling him down like gravity. Till one point the phantom easily dodged, and Lord Afanas’s blow slashed through the air. Without mercy, the phantom kicked him fall on his stomach, foot came to pressed on the stake already impaled in his shoulder. Lord Afanas’s face twisted when he heard his bones cracked, and the pointy end of the stake was even emerging from inside his body.

Then, thundered a roar.

 


	29. Fine At Last

The phantom roared in pain when the silver blade pierced him. His shriek got more and more deafening when the blade went deeper and deeper through his chest, sliding his heart into halves. The squishing sound of flesh being torn apart was horrendously sickening. His wavering form became solid, his body twitched and began to cracked like broken glass and he burnt to the point to explode, leaving only a column of smoke and a pile of ash on the floor where he had stood.

The sword was still in Lord Afanas’s hands when he lay supine on the floor. His eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped in aghast, for he didn’t remember lifting his weapon up at all. But soon, he realized…

Count von Krolock’s hands were seizing his.

It was the count who grasped his hands in time and gave the enemy a final strike before he was eliminated. The count himself didn’t even mind about the scorching burn on his skin for touching the silver handle.

“He’s dead for reals, isn’t he?” Lord Afanas panted, casting a glance to the count. Count von Krolock just nodded slightly, panting heavily as well, before realizing it and released the other man’s hands. They dropped the silver sword. The image of it flickered like waves, and in a blink of an eye it faded, soon returning to its owner.

Gripping at the wooden stake still impaling his flesh, Lord Afanas grimaced as he slowly pulled it out. The lost of blood left him exhausted, so this would take some time. He was grateful that the count lent him some blood and helped him prevent the wound from expanding. _One… two…three…Pull_. The moment the bloody stake dropped on the floor, it was also when Lord Afanas let himself go numb, eyes closed.

“Sir Afanas?” Count von Krolock’s called when he noticed the other man was motionless. He patted Lord Afanas’s cheeks to wake him up, until the man peeked one eye and moaned. “Are you alright?” Count von Krolock concerned.

“I… I feel tired.” Lord Afanas heaved a sigh and mumbled, “It hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?” Count von Krolock fumbled through the lord’s buttons, exposing bare flesh for him to examine. There were scratches, of course, and many other healing wounds, just like the count’s. The hole left on Lord Afanas’s shoulder was quite severe due to the impact of wood, but still, it was not lethal.

“Here…” Lord Afanas whimpered, as he traced his fingers to point at his left chest. “It hurts so bad… I see everything is getting… blurry…”

Count von Krolock knew fear, the fear of losing somebody. And now, once again it twisted in his chest as he frantically yet gently rubbed the other man’s skin for any wood in sight. If there was any, and worse, if it pinned into his heart, then the man would perish in no long time, and Count von Krolock couldn’t let that happen, not after what they’d just been through.

A giggle drifted over the count’s ears and he stopped. Without a second glance, he could already see the other man’s smile so mischievous, teasing him, and it only took the count a few brief seconds to realize he was roaming the man’s fine pecs. Count von Krolock glared, allowing himself to get on his feet.

“I’m sorry.” Lord Afanas awkwardly buttoned up his shirt, as he apologized for his own improper joke. The count remained silent. He was standing with his back turned to Lord Afanas, his hands came to slick his hair back in a tiring gesture as he breathed out a long, heavy sigh. “Johannes?” Lord Afanas whispered, willing his nerves to settle as he wondered if he was allowed to address the other man by his name yet.

Count von Krolock spun around. His face seemed dreadfully sad as he spoke, voice deep and low, “You must have known everything about me, haven’t you? That name…”

“Not everything, but enough for me to understand you.” Lord Afanas replied warmly, somehow did help the count’s tension eb away and his shoulders slumped. Lord Afanas’s hand reached out, wanting to touch the other man’s cheek, assuring him, but as the man flinched already, he decided it was wiser to withdraw. “But worry not. As long as you desire your secrets to be veiled, my lips are sealed.”

For once, Count von Krolock allow himself to give a pleasing smile, and he nodded. Then, thinking of something, he pondered, “How did you know there was a necklace in my pocket?”

“Because I was the one who put it in.”

“You know it is my necklace, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Lord Afanas laughed, chuckling. “In fact, it was Alfred who found it in the first place. I asked him to leave it, so I could hand it to you by myself. But then, it seemed that I was too shy to do that.” The lord could feel his cheeks warm as he confessed, and he looked down, focused on anything but the other man’s eyes for he was too embarrassed. “But let’s set it aside for another time. For now…”

“Let’s get out of here.” Count von Krolock added, and the other man could not help a bright smile.

.

.

Herbert was still waiting patiently on the armchair when the clock struck far past midnight, his legs moved from dangling idly to pressing against his chest, his fingers tangled and fidgeted in a restless manner he couldn’t help. Because he had plunged too deep into the realms, Beghemot had to pull him back to reality before he was trapped between them till eternity. The cat also refused to take him back there afterwards.

The last image of his mother kept flooding Herbert’s mind. His tears had dried, leaving dark stains around his puffy eyes and down his cheeks. With sorrow and guilt lively in his every veins, Herbert could only sit there spacing out until this whole trauma passed, with Alfred gently rubbing his arm in a soothing, compatible silence.

The tiny flames of the candles flickered weakly before they snuffed out completely, leaving the whole room engulfed by darkness, only thin shafts of pale moonlight dancing on the floor. When Herbert thought he couldn’t take it anymore and had to wreck something to release, a gasp came from the dormant body beside him. Koroviev’s milky orbs turned normal, and Lord Afanas’ still chest heaved rapidly as he came back to consciousness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The demonic characters are from the novel "Master and Margarita", written by Mikhail Bulgakov.


	30. Home

_Transylvanian Mountains._

Count von Krolock was not surprised to the slightest at the sight of the man on horseback in front of the castle. An unexpected visit, yet, he would admit that he was moved. Perhaps because he had grown familiar with the presence of this man, and though the man might be a little annoying sometimes, the count truly appreciated his companion.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Lord Afanas asked when a cold blank expression greeted him.

“It depends on what you are coming here for, though I’m always looking forward to having guests.” Count von Krolock crooned, and the other man burst into giddy laughter.

“After what we’ve been through and I’m still only a guest?” The lord mounted down from his horse and sauntered to the count’s side, skipping slightly like a chirping kid. “I even come here because I miss you!” He spread his arms wide as he exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, which made the count couldn’t suppress his laugh anymore and the man nearly choked.

“After those days in Bremen and you are still not tired of my face?” Count von Krolock rolled his eyes in a dramatic manner. Lord Afanas giggled, his grin so wide that it crinkled his eyes:

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you.”

“Is that so?” The count hummed, raising an expectant brow, “Tell me, then.”

The brightness on Lord Afanas’ face didn’t fade at all when his grin turned into a warm smile. Shyness was obvious on his face as he bit his lips, averting his eyes. Had the man been able to blush again then his face would be all red for now. He shifted closer to the count until they were only inches apart, which made the count tilt his head in curiosity, and the lord’s voice softened as he confessed:

“Two hundred and fifty two years are the years I’ve been yearning to be by your side.” He glanced up to catch a glimpse of the count’s encouraging look, then stared down at the snow again, too embarrassed to speak to him with a straight face. “The winter of 1621 was when we first met, if you still remember. You tried to hide from me back then.” He inhaled sharply, this time hesitated no more but came to grab the other man’s hand, their fingers tangled and he gave some gentle squeezes, as if he was afraid that the count would slip off his hands and leave him. “You know, Johannes… When I heard that you’d moved here, I believed in what you said. If it’s because of fate, then we will have the chance to meet again in the future.”

Words spilling from Lord Afanas’s lips like whispers, and the man could feel the burden in his chest lifted off. Only at this moment, he dared to look up. Count von Krolock’s eyes were glittering, as if he'd figured out something that had troubled him for so long. His mouth moved, but for a while, no sound escaped.

“I always thought they were all coincidences.” He blurted after a long pause, eyelashes fluttered. “But it seemed that I was wrong, wasn’t I? It was you who came to my door that night…”

“I am so sorry for scaring you. I dearly am.” Lord Afanas blamed himself as his hands spread, their palms pressed against each other’s.  “I’ve always been so hasty. You only wanted to protect your child. I am sorry for forcing you to leave your old home.”

By that, Lord Afanas looked down again, and he heard a faint sigh escaped the count’s throat. Hand came to guide his chin up startled him, his irises expanded as those fingers led him towards the other man’s lips so inviting. “It is just misunderstanding.” Count von Krolock assured, “I believe you never wanted it.”

Lord Afanas gulfed as his heart leap to his throat, pumping hard. He babbled nervously, nibbling on the inside of his cheeks as he offered, “Can I do something to make up for you?”

Count von Krolock allowed himself a pleasing smile. Fingers drew Lord Afanas’ chin closer, until their noses nearly touched and they could sensed each other’s heavy breaths. Tilted his head to one side, Count von Krolock watched the range of emotions pass through the other man’s face with amusement. Not knowing how to react properly, Lord Afanas let his eyelids fall half-closed, and the count took it as an approval. Words whispered over his mouth preceded lips, impossibly soft and sweet, then capturing Lord Afanas in a tender kiss.

.

.

Herbert was quiet when his feet met their destination in the graveyard behind the Krolock castle. Snow was falling, bringing more whiteness to the pure lily flowers in his hands, and the viscount knelt down to brush off the snow that covered the lonely tombstone before him. Never had Herbert felt so many emotions churning inside his heart like this. Then, he laughed at himself. He didn’t know why, why would he always bring flowers with him, for he knew so well that mother was not buried in this frosty, foreign mountains. She had rested in peace by her beloved ones back in her homeland far away, in front of his eyes now stood only a single tombstone with her name written on it. Father never seemed to remember its existence, but Herbert understood that the count acted to loathe it just because it only opened up his old wounds, while Herbert himself, on the contrary, had always loved to pay it a visit, just like how he loved to wander in the forest mother used to visit once upon a time.

After putting the lilies down and whispering loving words, Herbert felt somebody’s hand firmly placed on his shoulder. His father had arrived since when he didn’t notice, his gentle eyes were full of sorrow when he looked at him.

The count avoided Herbert’s gaze when he stood up to face him. He didn’t know what to say to his son after all what had happened, but Herbert didn’t need him to. The viscount without any words wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, hugging him in a tight embrace. Skeletal fingers gently brushed Herbert’s hair, and the young man vaguely remembered of the time when he was still a little boy. Memory of those old times were fading, but the peaceful feeling that it gave remained.

“I am so sorry…” Herbert whispered, still not letting go of his father. “And thank you for everything.”

Herbert felt his father loosen his embrace. The count’s hands came to cup his son’s cheeks in a gesture so fondly, thumbs rubbing his high cheekbones before the count placed a kiss on his son’s forehead.

 

THE END.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Many thanks to all of you who have been with my story till the last chapter. I'm opened to every kind of comments - as long as they're polite because I'm fragile - so if there're anything you would like to share just feel free to let me know. I'm willing to hear your thoughts ^_^


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